


Melodrama

by koyuki_kazahana



Category: Red Velvet (K-pop Band)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Eventual Romance, F/F, If I tag too much where is the thrill?, Romance, Smut, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:41:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 35,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29075001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koyuki_kazahana/pseuds/koyuki_kazahana
Summary: Standing on the precipice of life-changing decisions as she nears her 30s, Bae Joohyun is comfortable with her life: stable yet bleak. With a high-paying job in Seoul, several relationships that failed, endless flings after, and a past that scarred her, a simple ask for a cigarette turned her life into a whirl of melodrama when she meets Kang Seulgi in the most hopeless place of all.Written in 2017 and partially inspired by Lorde's second studio album, Melodrama. A story of self-discovery, perceptions, and growing in a world filled with existential dread.
Relationships: Bae Joohyun | Irene/Kang Seulgi
Comments: 5
Kudos: 23





	1. 2017

**Author's Note:**

> Also published on AFF under the same username.
> 
> Link to the story poster to get you the feels: https://i.imgur.com/lMHXbFd.jpg

**_1_ **

The wind wasn't gentle nor harsh, but it still made my fingers numb for I have been staying on our veranda for a good two hours. I loosened my hold on the book I was currently reading and rubbed my palms together to create friction, warming my hands in the process. Believe me, I didn't find my nose buried in the pages of my Mother's favorite reads.

But this time, when Mother was running errands, I was left alone in the morning. She wrote something on a pad of my green sticky notes _'I will be back by 3. P.s. Just heat some leftovers xx'_ and just left it there without sticking it somewhere. I left it as is and I let out a chuckle. Mom has been watching some British series lately that the Brits' tiny habits have rubbed on her.

Also, what's the point of sticky in sticky notes without sticking it anywhere?

* * *

I was reading, randomly selected from the shelves, The Motion of Light in Water: Sex and Science Fiction in the East Village. When she was in high school, my mother was fond of books. Fond of stealing books. She told me that back in the days, students take for granted the good and the coffee-table novels in their library.

Those were only good for displays, they're arranged neatly inside the shelves while collecting the fine amount of dust. She took pity. At the ignored books. The school had set aside enough funds to buy the supplies for their library. But no, students were too caught up with something else.

Maybe a few of the student population used the place or the books, but only if exams were around the corner. Students only benefited the library for their make-out sessions or even having quick sex behind the farthest shelf, just enough to muffle their moans and groans.

No one bothered. Still.

For four years, she had taken (stolen is rather a strong word for a good cause) over a hundred books. I questioned her one time over our usual cup of green tea, "Why steal? You could have just borrowed them."

"Why borrow them only good for three days and return them on the fourth? You could steal them and have them yours for a lifetime," she replied with a raise of her brow. I didn't argue anymore.

Of course, she had read them all. All the hundred books. Last night, I went to the room where she kept them and counted them. I only counted ninety-five of them. I frowned and wondered what happened to the other five. I counted them for double-checking, yet the first counting was right. Only ninety-five. I kept a mental note to ask her about the five missing books.

I didn't develop proper reading skills, unlike my mother. I tend to mumble the lines as I read along. She would often scold me, saying that I was way too noisy and blunt.

"That seemed to be, if anything, the power of writing—to hold sway over memory, making it public, keeping it private, possibly, even, keeping it secret from oneself—" The creaking sound of our front gate interrupted my concentration. I was surprised to find that mother had arrived.

"I thought you'll be home by three."

She took off her boots, placed them on the rack, and grumbled, "Han Gong-ssi wasn't in their store. I didn't have the chance to buy series lights for our tree."

"It's Christmas soon."

"Hhmm, it's Christmas in two days. And you're going back to Seoul this afternoon."

"Ma..."

She just huffed dejectedly but chose to be silent. I put the book down, helped her with the groceries, and went inside towards the kitchen with her.

"You were reading a person's story, eh?"

I nodded as I put down the bags on the counter.

"A gay man and his exploration of new arts, new sexual practices, new music, and new political awareness. Pretty good book. Enjoyed it before. How about you?”

I gave her a shrug, “Just started it.”

She handed me a chocolate-stuffed donut, the one I never fail to buy when I’m on a sugar rush, and I accepted it with delight.

“What happened to the five missing books?

She threw me a questioning look for a moment, “What five?”

I took a small bite of the donut, savoring the thick chocolate cream melting on my taste buds, before answering, “You said you had one hundred books. I only counted minus five of them. What happened?”

Mother began to unpack the groceries, “Let’s see. I sold one. Stoner was the book. My friend who had depression wanted to read a story about depression. Still killed herself, though,” now she unpacked the fabric softeners out, “Riddley Walker by Russell Hoban. I lost it. I don’t remember where I put it after I moved here. That Charles Dickens book that I forgot the title, what was it, huh?”

I randomly thought of one of his works. “Hard Times?”

“Yes, yes, that’s it. Right. I gave it to my ex-boyfriend.”

“Oh.”

I heard her snigger, “Yeah, right. A boyfriend before you were even born and before I married your father.”

“I know. I get that, okay?” we fell into silence as I waited for her to tell me about the last book. When she didn’t continue, I pressed on.

“The last book?”

Mother turned her back on me and went to the fridge to restock the goods, “Oh, the fifth?”

“Yeah.”

I didn’t know what I said wrong but I was taken aback when she slammed the door of the fridge quite hard. Though her back was still facing me, her voice was firm with a tinge of anger. Something wasn’t right.

“I burned it.” I could sense the resentment in her tone.

“Why?”

Mother faced me, this time, her features showed despondence.

“It had a picture of your father and his woman.”

* * *

**_2_ **

Seoul was the same-different from Daegu. People here in this city were no different from my hometown. They weren't that welcoming unless you're a foreigner, they plaster those forced smiles if they see your blond hair while you check out their local souvenir shops. No kidding. But they’re respectful, and at least they are.

Daegu was a land of historical sights, traditional houses, and lots of trees. A liked it there while I grew up. Seoul was urbanized. Skyscrapers from left to right, modern buildings, and houses, noisy streets – it’s a city that never sleeps.

Seoul was the place I first engaged myself in these endless flings, Daegu was where I never liberated myself to the pleasures of what life had to offer. I had my first boyfriend. He was also from Daegu, but we made love in Seoul after we ditch our high school graduation afterparty and headed for a hotel there instead.

Two months after that and we’re back in Daegu, we broke up. He said that he found better opportunities in Seoul and it was best for us to part ways.

Opportunities meant better girls and better sex.

Seoul and Daegu were different. Of course, no two places were similar at once. Only thing was, they both map tangible memories that were bitter and dreadful. That what made them the same for me.

* * *

“Joohyun-ah, have you arrived there already? How’s your headache? I packed some medicine in your bag. Don’t forget to drink those.” I held the phone between my shoulder, pressing it against my ear while I typed in the password of my apartment.

“I’m fine, Mom. I took some already.”

“Good. That’s good. Don’t forget to eat those Tteokbokki and rice cakes, okay?”

I finally entered my flat, turning on the lights before I dropped my stuff beside the couch, “I know. No need to tell me. I have to go, going to rest. Bye.” I heard her say something before I ended the call and placed my phone on the table. I looked around the monochromic haven and noticed that I didn’t get to clean the place before I left home.

The garbage bags were left without dumping them outside, and few pieces of dirty clothing were still in my laundry. My dog (er, a pet that was entrusted to me by someone special) was probably wondering where in the world had I gone. 

I went to Mao’s (the name of the corgi) little house inside my room. Good thing was, I placed enough food for him for the last three days that I was away.

“Heyah, little guy. Sorry, your owner was being irresponsible for not taking you on a trip back home.” I cooed at the poor dog who probably missed me and was dying to tell me that I had to clean his poop in the toilet. I sighed. Maybe I needed to clean this apartment before I rest.

* * *

Immediately after I took a shower, I started to clean the place, took the trashes out, and did a little laundry. Then I cleaned the bathroom (more like I cleaned Mao's dog shit). I plopped next to my dog on the couch and placed my head on the armrest. A few minutes later, my phone buzzed a call. I reached for it and checked who it was calling. It was an unregistered number so without second thoughts, I declined.

It rang for the second time, and I ignored it until it turned off. After a thirty-second interval, the number called me again. I began to feel vexed until I realized something.

Well, _fuck._

I heaved a deep sigh before finally answering the damn call.

“Hello?”

“Hey. Do you remember me?” his voice was deep and hoarse like he just woke up after a wild night.

“How’d you get my number?”

“Your calling card was on your table.”

“Great.”

“Great. Yeah, I had a great night last time.” I could have sworn, he was grinning like a schoolboy.

“Whoever you are, don’t bother calling me again.”

“How about we hang up tonight?”

“No.”

“Aw, come on. You were a pretty laid last time.”

“Fuck. Off.”

“Same place, same time?”

“You were just a one-time fuck, okay? Don’t expect any emotional attachment in return.”

“I didn’t say I want to be your boyfriend. Jesus Christ. let’s just do it again. No strings attached.”

No strings attached. A disdainful phrase yet not anymore alienated to me. I bit my lip as I thought of what to do with this guy whom I never really knew in the first place. The only thing I remembered about him was he offered me drinks, talked a little, and got intoxicated. Then we kissed, went here in my apartment, and ended up fucking each other’s brains out until two in the morning.

No matter how I end up with numerous guys in bed, they all have expiration dates only good for one night. I dispose of them when the sun decides to shine.

He spoke again, “I know you liked it. Just say it, I’ll be there.”

I laughed with oozing sarcasm, “I bedded better men than you. Be aware that your little guy there didn’t please me at all. I was faking my moans. Do better next time. Have a good life!”

I ended the call and blocked his number right after. The only thing to wound a man’s pride is to insult his vault of precious jewels. Pity.

That guy was possibly the reason I fled to Daegu the next morning after that night. Truth be told, I felt dirty after I saw him on my bed.

And to be blunt, that night was the time I just broke up with my boyfriend. Of three years.

* * *

I never heard of Suho ever since that night of our break up. Earlier that day, he took me out to a fancy restaurant. I thought it was just one of our usual dates every weekend. I was wrong.

He proposed to me. After three years of being together, he had the guts to ask for my hand in marriage. He was on his knee with a velvet box popped open. It was a diamond ring. I was rooted in my seat, not sure of what to say. I was tongue-tied.

I knew the answer already. But I couldn’t bring it to tell him.

“I’m sorry.”

I thought that the end of the world could only be visually represented in movies.

You could see the world crumble reflected in the eyes of the ones you loved.

* * *

**_3_ **

The TV anchor was delivering her usual nightly news. This time, she was telling something about the holidays and how each market in Seoul was jampacked.

But many were still inside the bar, downing beers as if there was no Christmas to wait.

* * *

“Gotta bring ‘em down! Eat shite, assholes!”

I heard a drunk man bellow, just two seats away from me. I glanced around if he was referring to a particular someone. I only found empty mugs of beer and an ashtray in front of him. “Did y-y’all know th-that capitalism… capital- ism has devoured Christmas? The – the true reason for this shite is n-not about sweet b-baby Jesus… not anymore…” what he was babbling about was getting interesting. He was hard to ignore now.

“It’s about [hiccups] consumerism and – and capitalist g-greed.”

* * *

I counted the empty bottles as I counted the proper boyfriends I had.

I emptied three.

Therefore, there were three.

First was Eunwoo. We dated during our senior year in high school, autumn, and broke up after we finished high school. It was a short-lived relationship, but it was the time I began to perceive relationships in an unrealistic way. I began to see it as something you couldn’t live without, as something everyone should have.

When things were over between us, I wouldn’t lie; I shed tears, cried buckets even because I thought it was the end of me. It took me a year to move on from Eunwoo. I knew it was just a whirlwind of a romance that we had, but it wasn't any less for me not to cherish it.

So much for young love.

* * *

No, make it two. I only had two proper boyfriends.

The second one was abusive and manipulative. Fucking douchebag.

* * *

Suho was a nice man. He was exceptional, one of a kind. He was sweet, caring… the traits that a good boyfriend could possess. My late grandma and mother liked him for me. They thought he was the right one for me to settle with.

Settlement.

I scoffed, almost laughing.

The thing about Suho, he was four years older than me. He was in his early thirties already while I was still enjoying the last vestiges of my late 20’s. I understood where he was coming from when he proposed to me. The thought of settling down already made him ponder on what to do. Heck, he’s old enough to have a family.

“How many children do you want?” Suho asked me just out of the blue. It was Chuseok and we decided to spend Korea’s biggest holiday in my hometown.

“Why?”

He kissed my temple, “Never mind that,” then he held my hand and stroked the back of it with his thumb.

“Do you love me?”

“Of course.”

This time, held both my hands.

“Enough to marry me?”

I didn't answer him with words. I kissed him square on the lips and he reciprocated.

Truth be told, I wasn’t sure about it. Did I love him? Yes.

If yes, was it enough for me to tie the knot and spend the rest of my life with him?

No.

There. That’s that.

* * *

The same man was screaming and voicing out how capitalism was destroying the country this time. He was probably a student who just sat one time in an Economics class and was now spurring hatred to the bourgeoisie. I took Econ before and I have to say, Marx was right. I examined his clothes; he wasn’t looking like a hobo at all. He had a leather jacket, basic Nike slippers, denim jeans and his latest Samsung phone kept on ringing.

“God, shut up already,” he finally turned it off.

“Slow down, Doyoung. You’re going to end up somewhere you don’t know if you waste yourself like this,” another voice that belonged to a woman reverberated in my ears. I guess the loud man wasn’t alone after all. I ordered another Soju.

“Eh? Noona? You wouldn’t do that, noona.” There was a sultry chuckle, “Oh, sure I do.”

“Unfair! I took you home the last time you ended in a hotel,” he whined as he slammed his palm against the varnished counter.

“Correction: you wanted money from me is all,” the woman with the drawling – almost husky – voice retorted.

Their banter went along with my sixth bottle.

* * *

“Yah, yah… d’ y-you, er, happen to ha-have [hiccup] cigarettes hmm?”

“I don’t smoke, miss.”

"Eh? E'ryone 'ere smokes. Why can't ya?"

“I just don’t,” I later realized that it was the woman I enjoyed listening conversing with her companion. I just knew it without noticing what she looked like.

My eyelids were getting heavier and I felt dizzy. My surroundings were warped, my head was spinning. The alcohol finally took a toll on my system. I wasn’t sure if the woman was talking with sense because the noise around me was gibberish. My legs were wobbly and then–

* * *

I rolled over the soft mattress and stretched my tender limbs. I knew it was already morning since I could feel the sun’s rays kiss my exposed skin. It also made me wonder what I would never open my window blinds when morning comes. I frowned. I slowly opened my eyes and observed my room.

It was a bad idea after all.

The sun was blinding and my head began to pound. I tried to block the sunlight with my hand covering my face. I began to inspect the room again.

It turned out that I wasn’t in my black themed room.

The room was white.

* * *

A sound of a shower turning off later, I whisked my head in the direction of the bathroom. Its door opened and I paid attention to whoever was coming out. I had a lot of questions to ask for whoever the person was.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

It was the woman from last night.

I spluttered without a second thought, “What the fuck happened? Why the fuck am I here? What the fuck.”

She was only clad in her bra and boxers.

“Slow down with your questions – and profanities – can’t answer them in one go,” she said while she grabbed another towel from a rack to dry her hair.

“Did something happen?”

“Yeah. You passed out.”

I scoffed, “That’s not what I meant.”

She looked at me through the reflection in the mirror, “Then what do you want to know?”

I crossed my arms, “Why the fuck am I only in my underwear and an oversized shirt?”

The woman slowly turned her back and faced me, leaning her toned arms against the vanity while looking me dead in the eye.

* * *

**_4_ **

She explained to me why I ended up in her house in Gangnam-gu.

“You approached me and asked for a cigarette. I told you I didn’t have one. Your words were slurred. Had I not caught you, you would have fallen flat on the floor. You threw up outside the bar and your clothes caught some stink. Then you passed out. I didn’t know your address that’s why you ended up here. The end. Bravo.”

I plastered a dubious look, still wouldn’t buy her story.

She sighed, putting on a plain, white cotton shirt, “If you’re figuring out that I like women, don’t flatter yourself. You’re not my type. And If you’re thinking I took advantage of you, no, I did not. I guess that’s what you’ve been dying to ask. Are you now satisfied?”

I looked down and tried to feel any soreness between my thighs. Then I went back to her.

“Do you have any cigarettes?”

“You’re probably the only person with a hangover who asks for a cigarette rather than aspirin.”

I just shrugged.

She was brushing her damp hair with her slim fingers, “Bedside drawer. Marlboro. If you won’t mind.”

I smirked. I wasn’t wrong about everyone in the bar smokes.

* * *

I lit up a Marlboro and rolled it between my lips. I took time in dragging it, feeling the cool menthol seeping through. The last time I had one was before I went home to Daegu.

Mother didn’t know that I had been smoking since I started working and I plan to keep it secret for a while.

Before I left her house to go back to my apartment, I had a chit-chat with her.

“You lied,” I started.

“What did I lie about?”

“That you don’t smoke.”

“I don’t.”

“You have a pack of cigarettes in your drawer.”

She offered me an ashtray and I accepted it, “I haven’t been for two years.”

“You don’t say.” She only observed the smoke swirling as it joins the winter breeze.

“You should too, you know. It will destroy you someday.”

“So, I’ve been told by the government,” I took another drag. We fell into silence before she decided to break it.

“I didn’t get your name,” I could sense she was having a debate with herself whether or not she should know my name.

“You don’t have to. I will be out soon anyway.”

I thought she was going to insist but she just said calmly, “Okay.” My cigarette had lost its light and so I squeezed it against the tray.

"I will be going now. Thanks for nursing me. I'll be taking this shirt with me," I stood, dusted off my hands, and grabbed my blazer and my dirty blouse with me.

“Sure. Consider that as my present.”

I smiled, “Merry Christmas.”

She mirrored my expression, her cheeks became plump, and I noticed the slight blush dusting on those, and the creases of her eyes softened.

"Merry Christmas."

* * *

I also asked if I could have the whole Marlboro pack.

A bonus Christmas gift.

And I’ve enjoyed it since I came home.

* * *

“Are you sure you won’t come home tonight for Christmas?”

It was three in the afternoon when Mother decided to call me in the middle of my work. I twirled a pen into my hair and leaned back against my office chair, “I’m afraid I can’t. My office mates decided to ditch work today. It’s only the app development department who decided to work. The rest of my department, nada. Such jerks.”

“Language, Bae Joohyun. It’s because you’re the only one who works your bum off even on holidays. That isn’t healthy anymore, _baechu_ ,” she nagged.

"Thanks, mom, but who would buy you that expensive stuff you want if I won’t work?”

I heard her laugh, “Always my silly _baechu_.”

We didn’t exchange any words as I stared at the picture of my family besides my desktop computer.

"You know, I appreciate these gifts you wrapped for me for Christmas. But you know what I really want this year?"

“Hhmm, a trip to Europe?”

She laughed again, “You. I only want you to come home for Christmas.”

I weaved my fingers through my jet-black hair and almost squeezed my phone, “Ma…”

“I know, I know. I understand,” her soothing voice came out, the one that comforts and reassures me.

“One last thing, Joohyun-ah. Don’t forget to buy flowers. Merry Christmas sweetheart, I love you.”

* * *

I had a different approach for Christmas for five years. When everyone was celebrating, out on the streets watching the fireworks with joy, or gathering with their families inside their abode, I was outside. With a bunch of daisy flowers in hand and a new route to drive, I went to a place not ideal for Christmas at all.

* * *

Only thirty percent of the population here in South Korea are Christians. However, stores remain open, and the Christmas holiday doesn't usually anchor an extended winter break, as it often does in other countries and cultures. But citizens here have adopted the western culture of celebrating it.

I used to be part of the thirty-percent. I was, until what happened exactly five years ago.

* * *

“It’s been a while, isn’t it? Sorry, this is the only time I could visit you. At least, you’re not lonely, right? Here, I brought you your favorite, Jjajangmyeon, and here are some daisies. I’ll take the withered flowers later.

Suzy-ah, I miss you. Mother and I miss you. Your dog, Mao, misses you, too. It’s been years, I know. But… I don’t know, I still feel empty. No matter how much I try to fill that hollow, I just end up being disappointed. I have tried to blend in but people disappoint me. And somehow, I find loneliness as my solitude.

You know, for as much as I hate this place, I’m still grateful. I miss you, dear sister. It’s easier to miss you here, a place where you’ve never been anything but dead, than to a place you have been when you were alive.”

* * *

“Oh, Joohyun! You just arrived on time.”

Right after I visited the memorial cemetery downtown, I drove straight ahead to a club. My co-workers gave me a free VIP pass for tonight's party, it's some sort of compensation when I was left alone in the office to do the job. Tonight, according to them, a renowned DJ was in town and to party with the people in the club. As much as I wanted to stay in my apartment, I didn't really want to spend Christmas alone.

Hyoyeon scooted over so that I could take a seat right next to her. Donghae handed me a shot glass of tequila, “Do you dance?” he tried to ask over the loud music.

I drank it in one go, “No.”

“Remember the rule, we don’t take ‘no’ for an answer,” said Yuri, waving her finger in the air.

Taking a rum cola, I scowled, “Fuck that rule. You don’t have my consent.” I winced as I felt the burning sensation of the liquor coursing through my mouth. They all looked at each other and burst out into laughter.

Hyoyeon raised her hands in defeat, “Suit yourself, Manager Bae-Bae. But the DJ who’s going to play the music ‘til the sun rises is said to be oozing with charisma and sex appeal.”

Yuri sighed dreamily, “He’s one of the finest men here in Korea, I must say."

Meanwhile, Donghae who had been silent throughout our conversation suddenly stood, “I don’t know about you guys but I’m going to give myself a try to this fine woman. Be right back. And oh! One of you should stay sober to get us all home.” Then he disappeared among the dancing crowd.

"He's here. It's going to start!" Club-goers around started to hoot in excitement as someone was introducing to the DJ. Hyoyeon and Yuri were practically on their feet as they couldn't contain their excitement. I remained unbothered, spare me the talk that this party was special just because of the DJ.

Loud electronic music boomed from the stereos and everyone was up on their feet. Another round of screams erupted and curiosity got me. I stood, trying to see who they were being so hyped up.

I guess Yuri and Hyoyeon were wrong because instead of a hot bud DJ that they claimed to be, there was a woman behind the platforms while gearing up the sound system, wearing tinted aviator glasses and a black crop top that showed her toned stomach, bopping her head and biting her lip as she figured which beat was going to keep the crowd alive.

Screw the hot bud DJ my co-workers were gushing about. I could feel that both men and women here want her.

And her name was Seulgi, the emcee welcomed.

* * *

Seulgi was the name of the nameless woman I accidentally met yesterday and she was the same nameless woman I crashed in for the night. It hadn’t been a day, yet I’ve met her twice in a row.

“Fancy seeing you here, Joohyun-ssi.”

I exhaled the smoke and eyed her, “I didn’t give you out my name.”

She nodded, “You’re right.”

I raised her an eyebrow. Seulgi giggled, her eyes disappeared into crescents. “You really have a knack for using your facial muscles to speak for you.”

“It’s a common reflex.”

She slipped her hands into the pockets of her bomber jacket, “Well, I didn’t mean to pry, but I saw your phone when it notified you had a message. I guess it was your friend, addressing you as ‘Joohyun’.”

Guess she had ways to know without even trying. A keen observer. I made another long exhale and watched the wisps of greyish-white smoke contrasting the dark, night sky.

“I don’t see you often here at the club. I take it it’s your first time.”

“You’re right. I don’t. But it’s Christmas.”

It made her frown. She rested her arms on the railing. “When it’s Christmas, aren’t you supposed to be with your family?”

I tapped the cigarette to discard the forming ash on the tip, “I could ask the same thing to you.”

She was stunned, but composed herself right away, “Huh, touché.”

I threw the stick into the nearest trash bin and unwrapped a menthol gum, “Your fanboys are probably looking for you now.”

“I’m only good for five plays then I’m out. That’s why I’m talking to you right now,” she crossed her arms over her chest, the jacket was slipping off her shoulder.

“Then make it six, seven, or more. I don’t care. Now go and make them feel your party was worth the money.” I popped the gum into my mouth and went back inside.

I felt her presence following me but we parted ways as she went on stage and I went to the exit heading towards my car.

* * *

At 2:59 AM, my phone beeped softly, indicating there was a new message. Donghae texted _Joohyun y the fuck did u ditch us??? U know i had a hard time getting these 2 home. anyway, we ended about 30 mins ago. hyo and yul enjoyed the dj’s music and their mens pretty faces so much they didn’t wanna go home._

* * *

**_5_ **

Seungwan, or what she was preferably called as Wendy, handed me bulks of black binders. All of which were strategic plans proposed by each department in the company.

“I checked the database for yesterday’s log, and you came to work on a holiday?” she sat casually on the single black couch.

I didn’t take my eyes away from the papers, “Yeah.”

I heard a huff, possibly she was also rolling her eyes, "No wonder you got promoted that easily. You're a work-obsessed bitch."

That made me feel smug, "So, I've been told."

Wendy took a pen from a mug and played it between her fingers, “Don’t tell me you didn’t spend your Christmas with your family.”

“I did.”

“With whom?”

I scanned another folder, “With my sister.”

“You went home to Daegu?”

“To the cemetery.”

“O-oh. Right. Sorry. God, I’m your closest workmate for five years, why does it always slip out of my tongue.”

I glanced up and gave her a reassuring look, “Don’t be.”

She then excused herself, told me a belated Christmas greeting, and reasoned out that she had to attend a board meeting. She had already attended the meeting just an hour ago, yet I just let her.

* * *

I used to keep journals back when I was in high school. There was nothing apparent with the ideas I wanted to write in it, so what you would usually find there were out of spontaneity and randomness. I wrote quotes from street graffiti found in subways, doodled crappy mock figures of people I disliked, lecture notes in literature, and of course, my thoughts on that day. I was a loner, though I had a couple of friends I wasn’t really hardcore in socializing. The communication I kept for myself was the journals, it made me feel connected to the outside world.

After all, journals are an outlet for your inner thoughts.

* * *

It’s funny how humans how can be a strange hybrid creature.

Like a sphynx or Gamayun.

A Ganesha or Minotaur.

We’re half-people. You would wonder if the one holding a knife is the one you’ve known for so long or a monster that’s been hiding underneath their endearing smile.

And so, when the news of my sister’s death reached me, I wrote my last journal and lit my first cigarette as I spent the next years trying to catch her rapist slash murderer and put him to jail.

* * *

Seungwan often called me “a different kind of drunk”. I didn’t even know that there were kinds of being drunk. I wouldn’t even bother telling myself that “Tonight, I’m this kind of drunk,” for as long I could taste the burning liquor, everything else was irrelevant. Since I was curious what kind I was, she interrogated me to figure things out.

“Hard or soft?” she began to ask.

“Hard.”

“Night or day?”

“Night.”

“Do you prefer to rave in clubs or be alone in your home?"

“Alone.”

“Tears or laughter?”

“Both.”

“What have you been feeling lately?”

“Mixed emotions.”

“How many shots can you take?”

“Depends on what I drink, but I can go for sixteen or

She acted like a psychologist, perhaps psychoanalyzing me, a clipboard in hand, and had her glasses on. She made a disagreeing sound, “Woman, you sure are a different kind.”

* * *

I don’t drink when I’m happy because there’s euphoria coursing through my system. Liquor dulls the pain and drowns my sadness; thus, I tend to drink until I feel numb.

“So, you’re uh… A–”

“I get it. A sad drunk.”

She put the clipboard down and sighed, “It’s not on the list, but I guess that kind is made for you.”

* * *

The owner of the bar was kind enough to offer me free drinks for the night. He said that I was a loyal customer for the past few months since I’ve discovered this place and I accepted the offer without hesitations. “Free drinks? Any drinks?” I tried to confirm. Thankfully, he said it's on the house, and because of that, I was a happy-sad drinker.

Everyone had a special spot that they own inside the bar. It’s something unspoken but everyone had it figured out where they wanted to stay. A young couple stayed in the corner beside the old pinball machine, an old, bearded man had his space near the karaoke.

Another woman, probably in her 40’s, sat alone at a single table found at the center of the bar. I had mine at the counter and the man who expressed hate on capitalism the last time stayed three sits apart.

Tonight, I preferred Budweiser and skipped Soju.

“Oh, hey noona! Where’s my present?” I remembered his name was Doyoung and the noona she called was Seulgi.

Seulgi sat next to him, two sits apart from me, “I gave you the latest Playstation, yet you’re still asking for more?”

“You gave it to me early November, that doesn’t count."

In my peripheral vision, I saw her smack Doyoung. “That’s what we call early Christmas present.”

Just like the last time, I listened to them bicker. I didn’t, in any way, bother to look at them, but I found myself wondering why they fell silent.

They stopped talking when Doyoung left sober and Seulgi had her eyes on me.

* * *

A jazz song softly played around the speakers found in the four corners of the bar and Seulgi decided to sit right next to me. She didn’t acknowledge my presence with any salutation yet, she was humming to the song, drumming her fingers to the beat.

“Art Blakey once said that jazz washes away the dust of everyday life,” she said.

I clucked my tongue, “You like the genre?”

“My father has a collection of jazz vinyl records. I grew up listening to those. Now they’re all stored in my garage.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

She pursed her lips, “Not really. I sneak into the garage in the middle of the night when I feel like I need some inspiration.”

I stroked the rim of the bottle with my index finger, “You’ve been inclined to music since you were young. Is that the reason why you’re a DJ?”

She studied the logo printed on the bottle, "It's safe to say that. Making music is a hobby – and dancing, too – to help me escape reality. How about you?"

“Is making music my hobby?”

She tried to contain her laugh, “No, no. What’s your escape from reality?”

I felt the corner of my lips tug, “It still has something to do with music. I slide into my daydream and just sing and dance whatever I hear on the radio,” I confessed. Seulgi didn’t mind what I said, or at least she didn’t finish listening. She suddenly stood and went over to the vinyl record player.

Beside it was a box of records and she browsed through it. When she had decided on what to pick, she took the vinyl out of its jacket and placed the pin for it to play.

A new song played and Seulgi was dancing with her hips swaying, fingers snapping to the smooth mellow of trombones. She had this suave move and a sinful smirk as she came back to her place.

“I like jazz and you like to dance whatever the radio plays.”

I had to be blunt, “Are you trying to impress me?”

“I’m just here for some good time,” then she winked. A terrible one. Instead of a wink, both her cat-like eyes blinked, and I couldn't help but chortle.

I looked around and noticed that it was only us and the bartender who was left at the bar.

"The night is still young, Joohyun-ssi, and so are we." I wanted to correct her that I wasn't getting any younger because basically, I'm nearing my thirties. But I joined her and danced nonetheless.

* * *

Open Sesame by Freddie Hubbard was the title of the song in case I wanted to reminisce it, she told me that before we decided to call it a night at 11:05 PM.

* * *

**_6_ **

The next few days passed by and December was nothing but a blur of events. I woke up in January, the first day of the new year, in a shabby hotel with a guy from a different department in the company. I was completely sober the night before the year ended so I could still remember how we got there.

* * *

I had my nightly ritual of lighting a cigarette to ease the stress away from work. Still, the pack I was using was the Marlboro one I got from Seulgi’s drawer. It got me surprised that I hadn’t consumed all the sticks in just a week, usually, I consume two packs in just seven days. Maybe I changed, a bit, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or bad.

Once again, I attended work for the holiday. Though my shift was over just an hour ago, I remained in the company building and headed to the open area on the top floor. Beneath me was the view of the city. Fireworks burst out in technicolor, lighting up Seoul’s skyline, the lights below were still thriving, and everyone was very much awake while waiting for the new year to come. The cigarette was dangling between my middle and forefinger, still untouched.

Behind me, the metallic door made a screeching sound of opening, followed by a stammer.

“Oh, I – uh, sorry. I thought – uh – never mind, I’ll go. Sorry to bother,” he was about to turn around when I stopped him.

“You can join me.”

His face contorted in hesitation, “I – are you sure?”

I shrugged, “I don’t own this place. It’s for everyone.” I didn’t know him, but I often see him in the User Interface Department, just two floors below ours. He’s quite young, a junior developer if I based it on what he was wearing.

The guy stood beside me and went on to fish out something from a plastic bag.

“Soju?”

“I wonder why you bought two,” I accepted the good old bottle of bittersweet.

“I’m supposed to have this all by myself,” then he opened his.

“Why are you lonely?”

“I was dumped by my girlfriend last week,” he muttered.

“Sorry about that.”

He let out a frustrated sigh, “We had been together for years, you know. She rejected my proposal. Long story short, we just decided to call it off.”

“You’re not going to win her back?”

He kept on staring at the other bursting fireworks just above Han River, “I don’t even get why she rejected it. I never failed to give the things she deserved. I gave her the love that she could never measure. What more did she want?”

I took a drag of my cigarette and exhaled the smoke through my nostrils, “I don’t get why men are entitled to a woman’s decision on marriage.”

“Hey, you’re a woman, I have a question. When someone asks you for a commitment, what do you think about it? Are you afraid that your freedom will be taken away?”

“Let me rephrase that; freedom is not about losing commitments. Freedom is the ability to choose and commit to what is best for me.”

His expression was unreadable. “Guess my story is familiar to you.”

Unblinking, I replied, “Very.”

* * *

Long story short, the young man and I decided that we were both lonely and we could celebrate the new year with a bang.

* * *

“My name is Park Bogum, _sunbae_.”

It was the first time he addressed me as his senior. He later realized that I had a respectable rank in the company when he saw my ID while we were undressing each other.

“And I had a great night, sunbae,” he added.

“Go and win her back. Get lost.”

After grabbing his coat, he gave me a sincere look then headed out of the hotel.

That morning, I consumed all cigarettes and my light makes up completely disappeared, washed away by my tears.

* * *

In the morning, four days after, I put on a loose, white shirt that had an "A woman's place is in the struggle" print and decided to unwind in a coffee shop just near my apartment building. The coffee there was crap if I’m being honest. This wasn’t my first time here, yet if I was demotivated to go the extra mile and search for fresh places, I found myself here.

As usual, I only ordered black coffee and a glass of water as a follow-up. Before I went to the place, I rummaged my backpack where I found the book I read back in Daegu and took it with me.

_Those moments when we learn that mothers rage and fathers kill, that friends betray and authority is fallible, or that our blank, innocent ignorance can destroy the pure, the good, and the loved are moments the very memory–_

“Fancy seeing you here, Joohyun-ssi.”

I couldn’t be mistaken by that voice at all. And her trademark lines of saying “oh, hey! It’s you again.” That only belonged to one person.

“Why do we always meet at times I want to be alone?”

Seulgi placed a palm on her chest in mock hurt, “Ouch, my pride is wounded. Men who have been sending messages would kill just to see me,” she sat on the empty seat opposite mine.

“Then those men will only waste their energy in the killing.”

She chuckled, shaking her head, “You and your dark humor.”

“I tried.”

She sipped on what seemed to be a white caramel coffee, “Do you have any plans for tonight?”

I closed the book and set it aside, making a mental note of where I last stopped.

“Cuddle with my dog.”

“That’s cute. Anything else?”

“Watch the latest season of Stranger Things.”

Her eyes widened, “Bingo!”

My eyebrows furrowed, confused, “What?”

“You know what happened to the kid, Will? He−”

“No!” I didn’t mean to say it out loud for the customers

inside the shop to hear, but I had to stop her from spoiling me. I enjoyed that show a lot to the point that I skipped work to finish the first season.

The jerk that she was, she only laughed at my disbelief. “Your face was priceless.”

“Stupid.”

She cleared her throat. “Here’s what; go out with me tonight.”

“And why would I?”

“If you won’t, I will spoil you.”

I remained my cool, “You’re bluffing.”

“The Demogorgon killed Bob.”

“Shit – ugh fine!”

She beamed at me, “Really?”

“After my work at seven.”

Seulgi clasped her hands together, “Fine with me. Let’s meet outside the bar?”

I collected my belongings, stood, and gave her a curt nod. I could feel her eyes burning holes in my back as I headed to the exit of the shop.

But before I completely disappeared, I turned around and said, “Drinks on you, miss.”

* * *

I heard a knock on my office door and I let the person in. Seungwan was there again to hand me the black binders – which were now the approved ones.

“I didn’t know you like jazz,” she commented. The little speakers in my office were playing soft sounds from a jazz playlist. Honestly, it’s not my cup of tea but the good old genre from New Orleans, surprisingly, gave me some calm and sweet vibes.

I hummed, “Yeah, I don’t.”

“Why the change of heart?”

“Someone recommended it, sort of.”

“A friend?”

I accepted the binders and spared her a glance. “Sort of.”

* * *

**_7_ **

I expected that I would go through hell in convincing Seungwan to cover my shift for tonight. I was amazed when she agreed in just milliseconds. I was her boss, after all, and she was the assistant manager, so probably she just said yes to my condition.

* * *

“She asked you to cover for her shift and you agreed?”

“Yes, Hyoyeon. Oh, don’t give me that look, Kwon Yuri.”

“But, when I asked you one time if you can cover my shift, you went berserk!”

“Don’t exaggerate, I had my reasons before. She’s exempted.”

“What did she reason out?”

“Honestly, I don’t know, Hyo. I bet my MacBook that she’s seeing someone.”

“So, you allowed her for the same reason I had when I asked you before?!”

“She’s gone through a lot lately. Let’s cut our Manager some slack, she needs to breathe.”

“And a new man to warm up her cold nights.”

“A new dick, you say?”

“Bold of you to assume she’ll need a dick, Yuri.”

“Wendy, not in front of your son, please.”

* * *

We both settled and relaxed at a diner while listening to some vintage records. It was a pretty hidden place in the city, not many people knew about it at all because they either didn’t know this exists, or they didn’t like classic songs. Somehow, I grew a liking for this place since it had a different atmosphere – calm and nostalgic.

The retro theme of the diner gave an ambiance that would surely take you on a trip down memory lane. Of course, only if you were born before the 1990s. Seulgi was the one who usually initiates the talk, asking me a bunch of questions which I only answer with a 'yes' or by shaking my head. I only explain things to her when needed.

“So, tell me,” she quickly took a bite of meat and wiped the sauce on the side of her lip with her thumb, “what do you think of Carl Sagan?”

“Great man. A brilliant one. I do think no one can and will replace him because he’s just irreplaceable. I sometimes wish that he is still alive today.”

“True, but we didn’t deserve him.”

I sighed, “That, I agree.”

“How about this, the Beatles.”

“Not for me.”

“Carly Rae Jepsen?”

“I like her Emotion album, by the way. I listen to it when I drive to work.”

“I saw you read a book earlier. I forgot to ask you what it was.”

“Oh, this?” I pulled the book she was referring out from my bag. She gently took it away from me, our fingers brushing.

“This is a long-ass title. Who even writes titles this long?"

I leaned my back against the velvet couch, resting my hands on my lap, “The one who wrote that and a man named S. Subramonian.”

She set the book aside and sipped on a fresh orange juice, “Tell me about that, never heard of that fact.”

“This man wrote the longest title and it was even awarded a Guinness world record. The title contains over 1,022 words.”

Seulgi whistled in awe, “That’s equivalent to a one and a half-page essay.”

“You bet.”

I wasn’t sure if she was trying to be charming because she had her lopsided grin etched on her lips. The smile that shows her glow.

And for once I admit, she really was charming.

* * *

Whenever we fell into a comfortable silence as we stroll along the streets, I take time to steal glances at her. Throughout those bits of chances, I had noticed that her hair had slightly grown longer compared to the last time I saw her. Unlike last time, she was only wearing light make-up.

As we walked beside each other, I caught a whiff of her perfume. We were walking aimlessly that we never realized we were near the Han River. It was close to midnight and everything was strangely vivid.

“Are you tired?”

I remained silent for a few seconds.

“I was, uh, hoping to show you some of my records. Not just jazz, I tell you.” She stammered and began to fidget the sling of her bag.

“I’m tired, but it’s a Saturday tomorrow.”

Seulgi’s eyes widened with hope, “And that means?”

“That means I’m going to go home now and enjoy my weekend,” I gave her a cheeky smile and turned around to find my way back home. She didn’t stop me from doing so but I looked behind my shoulder and said, loud enough for her to hear, “I had fun. Let’s do it again some time.”

And before I could look forward and walk ahead, I knew she was smiling, that charming smile.

* * *

Seulgi and I had an unlikely friendship. I had considered her as a new friend even if we haven’t exchanged numbers or call each other by our names. We never planned anything since we only meet by coincidence. She would find me in the bar on some nights and have some catching up, even if we didn’t know any personal matters.

This went on for a few weeks and I found her comfortable to be with. She wasn’t nauseating and annoying, she kept her cool and collected aura. She was also witty, she could keep up with my comebacks whenever we have our usual banters. But she also had her moments of being slow, an entirely different persona when she’s on stage.

One night, she finally invited me again to listen to the vinyl records she was dying for me to check out. I accepted her invitation since we all went home early as a reward for our successful app launching. She gave me the address of her house and I drove there right after.

I had been in her house when she nursed me back to sobriety but I didn’t have the chance to look and admire her home. From the outside, this house looked grandiose. It had been built with brown bricks and had brownstone decorations. Small, rounded windows add to the overall look of the house and had been added to the house in a very asymmetric way. It had a touch of both modern and old fashion. Two different styles yet it screamed her own taste.

We were in her living room, the burning fireplace lighting up the area and warming our cold bodies. Seulgi had chosen a couple of records to play, enjoyed a bottle of chilled wine, and sat on the floor, leaning against the couch.

“Since you had a successful day at work, you deserve this wine imported from Spain.” She handed me the glass and I accepted it. Swirling the red liquid, I took time in smelling its sweet aroma before sipping it.

She raised her glass, “For more successful days at work.” I did the same and we made a toast.

"So, this is the record you wanted to boast. You said it's not just jazz," I pointed out.

“Yeah, but I couldn’t help it.”

“Figures. What’s it called?”

“Moanin’ by Charles Mingus.”

“You’re trying to influence me with your jazz craze, aren’t you?”

Seulgi snickered, “I’m spreading the good news.”

“What does it remind you of?”

“It’s like I’m in an action movie, similar to those of James Bond.”

When it ended, a new one played. “How about that?” She pondered for a moment, “Feel the Night by Lee Ritenour. I listen to it when I dream of walking on the streets of New York at twilight.”

“Surprisingly, I do feel it too.”

* * *

We had drunk half of the wine and listened to over four songs. Jazz songs were mostly lengthy than a standard song of three minutes and they’re stored in vinyl record disks, so you couldn’t hit the next button if you wanted to. We were feeling tipsy, but we could still manage to hold up another round. I had high alcohol tolerance so I was fine.

The next one was something emotionally-rich and raw. The slow strokes of the trombone had an indulging tune, and it was inviting and blissful, making you want to listen to it all night long.

“This one’s something,” I referred to the one currently playing.

“It is. Chet Baker’s Alone Together makes you feel tingly and warm inside.”

I tipped my head to one side, looking at her with half-lidded eyes, "What about now, what does it remind you of?"

Fire danced in her eyes as she stared intently at the hearthside, "That… reminds me of our daydream in the winter solstice, of a gloaming of the park's many secluded recesses just to steal a kiss. Of falling in love under the stars – the best feeling that there is – and slow dancing with someone, secured in my embrace, even if we dance with two left feet. It just reminds me of a slow burn love story.”

“Was that the way you first fell in love?”

She turned her attention to me, the corners of her lips rose in a wistful smile, "That was just wishful thinking."

I curled my knees near to my chest, “You’re too idealistic in the concept of falling in love.”

She let out a chuckle and scooted closer to me.

I mused again, “We are idealistic and a bit ambitious. I shake my head when someone mentions falling in love or talking about soul mates and how the universe decided the two of them are fated. It’s ridiculous, really. But when you meet the person who makes you think twice, everything changes. The misanthrope becomes hopeful, the doubtful, a fervent devotee.”

Only the crackling sound of the burned woods and the soft chorus of Chet Baker’s song sliced through the silence as I waited for her to say something.

“You’re beautiful. Has anyone told you that?”

I could feel the warmth radiating from us, our shoulders were already touching, and our glasses were left settled. I straightened up, “My mother does, so did my past boyfriends. Anyone else outside the circle is funny to hear.”

“I mean it. You’re beautiful.”

Maybe it was the wine but I started to giggle at her words then I guffawed, holding my stomach as I rolled to the floor.

“What’s so funny?”

I wiped the tears forming in my eyes, “You’re not my mother. That’s why it’s funny. Say it again, please.”

“Alright. You’re beautiful.”

I giggled, still laying on the carpet, “I’ve never laughed this hard. Say it, say it again.”

She bit her lower lip, trying to suppress any laughter, “Fine, if that makes you happy. Again, you’re beautiful.”

Another tittle rippled across the otherwise silent room as I made a sound of amusement. Just as I was to let out more of it, I was silenced by a sudden feeling of suppleness pressed against my lips. I hardly had a moment to react before she pressed her tongue to the seam of my lips and, at my grant of access, delved inside my mouth.

It was a very sloppy kiss with the strong scent of sweet wine being exchanged in the intermingling of our billowing breaths. I pulled back and she did the same, catching our breaths. She stared at me with such intensity, her enigmatic eyes pierced through mine.

I licked my lips and breathlessly asked, “Why did you kiss me?”

“Because you’re beautiful,” her hot breath spread across my lips, her voice was sultry.

She blinked several times, “I’m sorry. That was stupid of me, I shouldn’t have done that.” She slowly pulled back but my arms reached up and tangled around her neck.

Then, we shared another long, ardent kiss. In an instant I had pulled away and arched up into her chest, moaning in the contact of body heat against my own, before I drew back into her lips. I could nearly feel the slight burn of the wine as it rolled off my tongue and seeped down my throat with every push of her tongue against mine. We were a tangled mess on her soft carpet, the wine completely forgotten and the music now only emitted a static sound.

* * *

I once read that the word 'jazz' doesn't exactly have the deepest meanings or origins. In the early days, 'to jazz' meant to fornicate, and 'jazzing' meant 'having sex'. That night, let's just say, Seulgi and I first jazzed.

* * *

**_8_ **

Life stayed the same. I still smoked, worked, kept my lifestyle of sleeping with a random man or with Park Bogum (he didn’t get back with his girlfriend because the girl found a new one), and remained as the sad drunk in the bar. I still met with Seulgi on most occasions, sometimes intentionally or just a coincidence. After our encounters, wherever we met, I never went home without my lips swollen or with a hickey almost bruising on a patch of my skin.

Life stayed the same, only it was wilder.

* * *

"Joohyun is that a…”

I threw a skeptic look at Wendy, “A what?” I realized what she was pointing at. Shit.

“A Love Mark?” Yuri butted in; her eyes were wide as saucers. I forgot to wear my turtleneck today since I was running late for work. I was also stupid enough not to apply a heavy concealer to cover the obvious mark.

I quickly covered the still fresh mark with my palm, avoiding any eye contact, “I ran into a pole that was askew. A weird thing, mind you.”

The three of them, including Hyoyeon who was rechecking some documents, only exchanged dubious looks. I was sure they’d never buy my lie.

* * *

“Wendy, is your MacBook still up for grabs?”

“I wasn’t serious, Hyoyeon! ”

“Nuh-uh, you and your filthy rich ass told us something about betting your laptop if Joohyun was proven to be going out with someone. Now, it's as clear as daylight.”

“Goddamn it, Yuri!”

* * *

Spring was around the corner and March was approaching. For today, I drove back home to Daegu, bringing Mao with me to visit my Mother. Let me tell you a little about my town. I was born and raised in it, and this town witnessed the joys and suffering I endured. The town was a maze of narrow winding streets, as complex as the heart.

The streets were the veins, paved with dark red stones, and the people were the blood. The sound of the chirping birds and bustling streets were the consistent and nostalgic tunes that let you know the town was alive. If only opportunities here were the same as Seoul's, I wouldn't have left this place and just stayed here for the rest of my life.

* * *

When I arrived at our house, I found Mother was busy with stacking up some boxes in our yard.

“What are those?”

She looked at me momentarily before smiling softly, “These are a hundred books that I have. I’m going to donate these to our public library here.”

Mao was wiggling from my hold, so I let him down and he started running around. “You only have ninety-five books. I counted them, remember?”

When she was done with her task, she went over to me and patted my cheek, “Silly me. I could never go wrong with you.” I only gave her a genuine smile. We headed inside and settled in our kitchen, she prepared the green tea we usually drink and I played with Mao while waiting.

When everything was set, she didn’t need to call me and to come over. I let Mao wander around the house and I sat down on the stool.

"Your father visited me last week. I forgot to tell you that," Mother said, pouring the tea into my cup. I chose to be quiet for a moment and when I never opened my mouth to say anything, she sighed, “He wanted to ask how you were doing.”

“Like he cared.”

I knew she wanted to defend whatever her point was, but knowing that I was gripping the handle of my cup tightly with my knuckles turning white, she probably decided to keep it to herself.

During our catch up, he was never brought up again.

* * *

I decided to stop by the club the moment I went back to Seoul. Seulgi informed me that she was going to be there to play some of her new tunes. I almost forgot that she was a DJ, yet it was a bit strange to see her work with the new EDM trend.

After all, she was the same gal who liked jazz and she’s the only person who only had that liking.

Inside the club it was like dancing on the Northern Lights; beneath the dry-ice smoke swirled an array of blues, acid greens, hot pinks, and gold. The music played on the dance floor as if had fused with the bodies.

I tried to squeeze into the crowd to get me through when someone pulled me to the side. My wrist was dragged, and it was a struggle to see who was doing it because of the multitude of people around, and the laser lights flashing in and out. But when the way was cleared out, I was again pulled into an enclosed room, the music was but a faint sound, and suddenly I was sliding up against a wall.

Arms hoisted my waist and I caught an all-too-familiar scent of perfume. I was about to speak when Seulgi attacked my lips for a searing kiss. Within a split second, I submitted to her demands and kissed her with equal passion. She moaned when I gripped the back of her hair. I gasped when she moved her body closer to mine, nudging my thighs apart that it made me mewl as pleasure shot up my body. This time it was her turn to smile.

After what felt like an eternity, we pulled away and I was feeling light-headed.

“Seulgi, not here.”

“Too late. I missed you,” she whispered before nibbling on the shell of my ear.

I let out a contented sigh, “I wasn’t gone for too long.”

Her lips trailed the column of my neck, “The last time we were together was February.”

I glared at her, “February ended only a day ago.”

“Don’t care, I still miss you.”

I lazily smirked, “You mean my body.”

She was about to refute when a knock on the door and a voice interrupted, “Hey, Seulgi. You’re up.”

I turned to her, “Put me down and go.” She did as she was told but she didn’t let go of me and even held me closer. Seulgi held my gaze and muttered, “I missed you, truly. Not because we didn’t get to have sex last night but because I just missed you and you alone. Do you get that?”

I nodded weakly and pecked her lips, “Go start the party.” She smiled and headed out.

I stayed in the room for a moment, trying to compose myself, fixing my shirt that was slightly hitched up, and tying my hair into a low ponytail. When I could feel my heartbeat steadying and my breathing normal, I searched for the new pack of cigarettes inside my pockets.

The good thing about clubs and their premium rooms was that even if you didn’t ask for one, there would always be a lighter left alone somewhere. And whoever left the lighter was my savior for the night.

* * *

I left the club without hanging out or listening to Seulgi playing some of her remixes. I didn’t know, but earlier I felt something I didn’t understand. If I tried to understand what that feeling was, I wouldn’t be sure if I could handle the truth.

Maybe, I was just being pretentious.

* * *

Ever since she knew about my address, she would often visit me at night when everyone in the building was asleep, or so I would think. There was no spot left in my apartment clean, we possibly had sex in all of the corners. Out of all the people I bedded, she was the only one who enjoyed experimenting with new ways to make our sexual escapades more titillating.

The first night, we didn’t end up in my bed. We were on the couch; I was straddling her while she took her time exploring my breasts. I never understood why she was marveling at my mounds, sucking and groping them. My breasts were not silicone monsters, they were small, perfectly shaped, and to my eye, cute.

I heard her whispering against them, “I can just bury myself in between these, they’re soft. Oh, how perfect can they be.”

My past lovers (and booty calls) never really dwelled on them, not as much as she did.

So, on the first night, I rode her – thanks to her strapon – while her hands remained on my breasts.

* * *

Even if sometimes I wanted it rough, she never failed to smother every inch of my body with kisses. Whenever she kissed my lips, she pulls and tugs my bottom lip, then slips her tongue into my mouth, entangling with my own. But also, her favorite part to kiss, nip or just suck was on the section of my neck. My skin was bare except that my lower limb was covered with a bedsheet. I was lying on my stomach with her towering behind me and swept my hair to the side, draping my left shoulder.

“Purpose,” she read the minuscule tattoo inked on my nape, almost whispering to herself. I closed my eyes when she kissed it ever- so-softly and proceeded to trail her lips to my spine. And since then, she never left that patch of skin unmarked.

* * *

On a Sunday, Seulgi hadn’t touched me since she arrived which I was silently thankful for. I missed those days when I could only worry about catching up with my favorite shows and for that moment, we had an unspoken agreement to binge-watch whatever we could find on Netflix. It was in the middle of Sympathy for Lady Vengeance when she moved closer and handed me a small velvet box.

I was puzzled, “What is this?”

“See for yourself.”

I hesitated, looking at her and the box on her hand back and forth. I gingerly took it wondering why she was suddenly giving me a gift. I slowly opened the box and there I found a thin, silver bracelet with an arrow that dangled at the center.

“Why?”

“It’s your birthday,” was her meek answer.

“You really shouldn’t have, but… thank you.” She rose from the couch and went near the door to get something. When she came back, she was bringing a box of what seemed to be a chocolate cake and placed it on the table.

“How come you knew it’s my birthday?”

She untied the ribbon and opened the box, “I found your senior yearbook and I scanned for your name.” She lit the candles, turned the lights off in the room then rushed back. Seulgi held both of my hands and pulled me from the couch before she held the cake.

She began to sing me the birthday song and when she was done, she told me to make a wish.

“Close your eyes and make your wish.”

“Aren’t I too old for those?”

She grinned, “There’s nothing to lose if you wish.” She had a point somehow and so I did. I closed my eyes for a moment, made my wish, and when I was ready, I blew the candles and we were enveloped by the sudden darkness.

We both stood there, almost unmoving. The silence was deafening that our beating hearts were almost audible, raw, and tangible. I felt the four walls enclosing tighter around us. The moonlight was the only source of illumination inside the pitch darkness. But I wondered if the moon only shone especially for Seulgi, for every inch, every dip, and curve of her face was glowing softly. I’ve never seen such divinity, a beauty worthy of an angel, yet she looked like a sin I’d always commit.

Everything was in slow motion. The moment when she held my waist and pressed her delicate body against mine, everything suddenly stopped. The time. My heartbeat. My breathing. And when she latched her lips to mine, I forgot who I was. But it also happened so fast when our lips were moving in perfect sync. I felt her hand in my hair, how she loved the softness, watching it tumble as she releases it.

Then her hand moved down my cheekbones to my lips. That's when another fiery kiss started and we started to move like partners in a dance that is written in our DNA. Our bodies fit together as if we were made just for this, to fall into one another, to feel this natural rhythm.

Without stopping our kiss, Seulgi gripped the sides of my waist, almost tumbling down but she managed to slam my back against a wall. Every kiss had a raw intensity - breathing fast, heart rates faster. I reached for the doorknob of my room and quickly opened the door. Without even closing it, Seulgi was all business already, carrying me towards the bed, letting me fall with a soft bounce on the mattress. We lock eyes for just a moment.

“I want to make you feel good tonight. Do you want it too?”

I traced the edge of her lips and whispered to her like it was our secret, “Make me feel everything tonight.”

And just like that, she captured my already swollen lips once again. She pulled her turtleneck up and threw it aside, leaving her sun-kissed torso bare. Seulgi tugged on the hem of my shirt and I raised my arms for her to get rid of it. I shivered when the cold emitted by the air conditioner hit my skin.

“You weren’t wearing a bra,” she brushed her fingers against the underside of my breast as I felt my nipples ache for more contact.

“I thought I could tease you.” She trailed hot open mouth kisses starting from my neck, nipping my collarbone in the process, and licking the valley between my breasts. My fingers racked their way through her hair as Seulgi sucked on those perky, brown nipples dotting the mounds.

I let out my first moan and I pushed her face, burying her on my chest. When she was satisfied with the marks she left, her lips found their way down to my stomach. She undid my jeans and quickly pulled them away from my legs. I felt my back arch in anticipation, knowing where her fingers would soon reach.

My breath hitched when Seulgi showered butterfly kisses on the inside of my thighs. My head rocks back against the pillow as her long, delicate fingers worked their way up to my core. I felt her intense eyes boring into me, watching my reaction, feeling how my legs move, watching my body writhe. She had done this to me several times and it just keeps on getting better. Her head moved around to my left ear and she whispered what's coming next.

“Joohyun… Joohyun… Joohyun… I want you. God. I want you so bad.” I pulled back for a kiss, my fingers pulled a handful of her hair and I let out a guttural groan when her fingers rocked in, sliding back and forth, fast.

I tugged on the button of her jeans, helping her to get out of it. Then before I knew how it happened we were naked and our skins were moving softly together, like the finest of silk. Seulgi traced the edges of my jaw with her lips, and I was already begging.

“Seulgi, please.”

I felt her smirk, “Already?”

“Stop teasing me, it’s my day.”

She chuckled throatily and in seconds she straddled my waist, held my other leg up to her shoulder, and brushed her core against mine. We both groaned as soon as our bodies were in communion. I whimpered when she swayed her hips, creating rough friction against our sweaty skins.

Seulgi intertwined our hands together and pinned them to the sides. I cried out in pleasure when she made another slow, deep thrust. She swallowed my moans and mewls by tangling our tongues together in a scandalous kiss.

Then all at once, she stopped for a second only then to fuck me harder, my breathing hitching with every meeting of her thrust, hearing my moans timed to her body.

“You feel so good.” She said through gritted teeth. I couldn’t let her have all the fun. I suddenly pushed her on her back and I was on top. She hissed and dug her fingers hard into my waist. I didn’t know what was going on in her mind but she was looking at me like I was her most prized possession.

Her hands were all over me as I sensually rotated my hips against her. I felt I was about to burst wide open. It was the strangest sensation, something that went beyond passion and lust. We both rode our highs, waves of pleasure washing over our system, the sensation of climaxing building up.

And just like that, with one final scream of her name, I fell on top of her glistening chest, heaving with deep intakes of breaths. We both stayed like that for a moment, our legs still entangled.

She broke the silence, “That was… that was the most sensual fuck we ever had, yeah?”

“Are you complaining, yet?”

I felt her chest rumble when she laughed breathlessly. "No. That was the most memorable one with you."

“Mmm…”

I felt her pull. Seulgi suddenly sat up, resting her back against the headrest while I went over to my bedside drawer. I settled back in between her thighs with my pack of cigarettes and lighter and pulled one. Once I lit it, I took a drag and exhaled it unapologetically in front of her. I anxiously licked my lips when her arms encircled my waist, pulling me closer as if we weren’t intimate enough.

“Seriously, you should quit smoking.”

I inhaled the menthol smoke and exhaled it through my nostrils, “If I quit it so suddenly, I will have a heart attack and I will die all of a sudden.”

She squeezed my thigh (somewhere dangerously near to my cunt) and I yelped. “I’m serious.”

I rolled my eyes, “Loosen up, will you?” then I offered the stick to her. Seulgi looked at me like it was something ridiculous to do, but she accepted the cigarette with her lips. We took turns in inhaling it, feeling our lungs being wrapped in a warm blanket.

If only this did not impose a threat to my health, I would have enjoyed this without worrying about my well-being. 

But then again, I couldn’t care less about myself.

I felt a stroke of hand on my thigh and I looked up to her.

“Is something wrong?” she whispered.

I smacked my lips together before answering, “My mother used to say that marriage is not for everyone. Are you aware of that?”

“What makes her say that?”

"I do agree with her. Marriage is not everyone's end means. Look at her and my dad, after a couple of years in marriage, nothing worked between them. They filed their divorce in the end. She was better off without him, anyway. On the day that she signed the papers, she said that she has me and my sister and everything else will be okay. Since then, I have pulled any thoughts of marriage or commitment out of my mind like how one would pull the useless plants in their backyard.”

Her brows knitted, “Your idea of marriage is too far- fetched.”

I shrugged, brushing off her comment, "That's just what it is, take it, or leave it."

She sighed and we fell into silence. I continued on smoking, the familiar scent of burnt tobacco mixed with the musky smell of sex filling up the room. I was taken aback when she spoke her pondered thoughts.

“Promise me something.”

I scoffed sarcastically, “I don’t make promises, and you’re not my girlfriend.”

Her face was emotionless, yet her eyes were telling something I couldn’t decipher.

“Then remember this when the time comes. And do my favor like how a friend does.”

I bit the inside of my cheeks, my jaw tightened, and muttered, “What is it?”

“When I get married to someone and when that day comes that I’m in a church, I want you to be there and stop me.”

I shook my head, “You’re not making sense. Why would I crash your wedding?”

Her eyes shifted to the side and slowly, like unraveling a person behind the mask, I could feel her walls crumbling down with her face trying to look not dejected. And then she cast her eyes to mine.

“Because if you won’t, I might commit the biggest mistake of my life.”

* * *

Usually, when we’re sated and tired after sex, Seulgi slumps back on the mattress and I lay back on the other side. We were on our own when sleep overcomes our bodies.

When I fluttered my eyes open at two in the morning, I felt hot breath fanning against my chest. I looked down and realized that our bodies were tangled with each other. I felt a sudden deep urge to run my hand down Seulgi’s cheeks. Her arms were wrapped securely around my body as if she was afraid that I would go somewhere when the morning comes.

The way she held on to me, and the way we copulated made me feel something spreading around my chest. The kind when you’re anxious and, at the same time, fear crawls in your spine and goes up to your mind, sending you signals. I tried to pull away but she only held on tighter.

I let her.

And for the first time in a while, I slept soundly, right there in her arms.

* * *

**_9_ **

In the morning, six hours later, Seulgi was nowhere to be found, even her clothes were gone. When I checked the living room, by any chance if she was just watching some morning news - sprawled on the couch in her naked glory - there was no hint of her around.

She didn’t leave a note, nor a text on her way. The only traces of her left were the smashed cake on the floor and the bracelet still in its box. I began to think that she was off somewhere important, shrugging any thoughts regarding her whereabouts.

Because in the end, I was in no place at all to know everything about her private matters.

* * *

I decided to visit the building’s top floor during my coffee break with a book I borrowed from Yuri. It was abook with a compilation of essays and true stories. As I flipped through it, I came across a particular essay.

_Lust can be fun - I'm not saying it isn't – but where does it lead? What is its purpose? Everyone I know who prefers lust to love was damaged by someone. They won't trust anymore and without trust, you can't have love; it just isn't possible. So yeah, you can hit the internet and have more “partners” than a sailor on shore leave, and you'll still be lonely inside. Nothing can touch that but a true lover – trustworthy and kind. So, don't give up on love, the real deal, not the Hollywood fireworks version. Your love is your best friend, your confidant, your eternal refuge. For if we have a moral compass (and I believe we do) then what else could be true north but true love? I'm no prude, heck no, it's just that you're too precious to waste yourself in these shallow ways – dead ends when what you need is a -_

I threw the book aside and lit a cigarette. I exhaled.

“Bullshit.”

* * *

I came out of the shower and dried my hair with the usual towel provided by the shabby hotel. I was again with Park Bogum and at the moment, he was zipping the fly of his favorite distressed jeans.

“S-Sunbae… I have something to tell you.”

I looked at him in the mirror, prompting him to continue.

“I – uh – I have decided to get things right with my former girlfriend, for real this time.”

My brows shot up.

“I – I,” he sighed heavily, “I still love her. No matter how I try to forget her and erase any of our memories together, I still find myself longing for her. I’m s- sorry, sunbae. I hope you understand.” Bogum began to feel weary when I didn’t give out any response. I turned to him.

“Sunbae?”

“I told you before to get back at her, right?”

He slowly nodded. I aimed the young man a reassuring smile, “It’s good that you listened to me.”

And then, Bogum gave me a smile that just seemed so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness.

* * *

Park Bogum informed me one time when we bumped into each other that he was again engaged to his true love. The wedding would take place during the summer.

We had left everything behind, inside the 20th room.

Since then, we never met up in that shabby hotel again.

* * *

I went to the bar and found the usual people inside. There was the man beside the pinball machine, the couple in the corner, the middle-aged woman, and of course, Doyoung whom Seulgi mentioned that he was a student activist. However, he wasn’t blabbering about capitalism and hating on the ruling class, he wasn’t even drinking. I went to my usual spot and without any wait, the bartender asked for my drink right away.

“A drink for a sad drinker,” I ordered.

The bartender made a sound of disapproval, “I thought everyone here tonight just enjoys the drinks without anything to worry about. Look at those folks around.”

“Well, it’s either you come here to wash away your sadness, or to drink and pretend that you are happy.”

* * *

Scotch was a rather strong liquor, too strong for my own liking, but I still managed to empty five shots. On my sixth refill, Doyoung decided to sit next to me and he boldly asked, “You were the drunk lady Seulgi noona helped last time, right?”

I turned my face towards him, “Yeah.”

“Is your name Joohyun?”

I blinked, unsure if I should nod my head at his query. “He’s been asking ladies here if their names happen to be Joohyun,” interrupted the bartender. I dropped an ice cube into my glass and told him 'no'.

Doyoung slumped his shoulders, “Oh, too bad. When will I ever find her…” he wondered.

I wanted to figure out why he was searching for me when clearly, I was a stranger to him. Trying to act cool, I questioned him, “Why have you been asking random ladies if their name is Joohyun?”

He scratched the side of his head, “I was curious about this Joohyun. I don’t know much about her, but maybe she probably changed my noona. Seulgi noona has a lot of problems lately. You see, she’s actually the daughter of the owner of one of Korea's biggest business conglomerate. She happens to be a Kang heir so she’s expected to carry on their business in the field of Medicine. She's projected to be the vice president of the company, just next to her older brother.”

I was all ears to his storytelling. He already got me when he mentioned my name, now I’m about to know who Seulgi really was.

“But, I heard she’s a DJ.”

The lad nodded, “Correct. But her name is meant not to be known, though.”

“Why not?”

Doyoung let out a sigh, “She really loves music. She wanted to be a musician, just write songs or sing. And dance, noona dances well. But considering she's from an influential clan, being a part of them has its cost. Tsk, this is why the proletariat should make an uprising to overthrow the bourgeoisie."

I hadn’t heard anything from that woman. That Kang Seulgi. It had been two weeks since she disappeared into thin air, with no leads to where she had gone. I tried not to be bothered by the fact that she never sent me any message, or a text just to let me know that she’s still alive and breathing. Now that the kid, Doyoung, exposed her identity, I concluded that she was probably on a business trip to attend. Still, I wasn’t also sure of it.

I bit my lip and swallowed my surging pride, “Where is she now?”

After he ordered a small basket of French fries, he munched a handful of it before answering, “She’s in China now. Seulgi noona is taking care of things over there. For the good of their business. There will be an emergence between two companies from here and there in China. Tsk, monopoly capitalism is decaying. But you know what, even if Seulgi noona is from a wealthy family, I like her because she’s humble and doesn’t hate the lower class, you know. That’s why we’re friends.”

He wiped his greasy lips with a table napkin, “Anyway, noona’s getting married to the son of a Chinese businessman.”

If I heard it right, I have to hear it twice. The news passed through like a hurricane. My fingertips paused, barely touching the glass of scotch. For one long minute, my eyes never fluttered close. My body froze my mind, an icy wasteland. I only have talked to Doyoung so probably he was just joking. I heard him continue his talk and I tried my best to listen attentively.

“I feel bad for noona. Yeah, she’s getting married and all, but she’s not getting married to someone she loves,” He dipped a French fry into the ketchup, “But then again, it is, frankly, a marriage of convenience.”

He dusted off his hands together, “I seriously think that Joohyun-ssi was the one my noona has fallen over. You see, though I don’t know much about her, noona talks about her at some point. She used to bring home different girls or guys each night in her house, but since she first mentioned her name, she was glowing. Not all grumpy anymore. And you know, I think the girl is lucky.”

“Why so?”

"You see before she left for China, she told me something – some sort of a favor. Wonder what she said?”

I downed the scotch in one swig, “How should I know?”

“Before she left, Seulgi noona was looking depressed, like she didn’t want to leave at all. And then she said to me this; ‘If you see a woman in the bar, her name’s Joohyun. Tell Joohyun, I didn’t mean to leave her. I never wanted to.'”

* * *

That week, I had a record-breaker.

In seven days, I consumed three and a half packs of cigarettes.

Just this time, it wasn’t Marlboro

* * *

After I had my dinner, I phoned my Mother. After a ring or two, she picked the call right away.

“Oh, Joohyun-ah. You called.”

“Ma…”

“Sweetie, is there something wrong?” I smiled sadly at her sudden switch of mood.

As if she could see me, I shook my head, “No. I just have a question.”

“What is it?”

“When a certain someone says that they didn't mean to hurt you and you believed them yet even if you have built your walls and façade, pain can still find its way to you. What is that? What does it mean?"

I heard silence to the other end as she was contemplating her answer.

“Joohyun-ah, that’s called love. Those who really love you don't mean to hurt you and if they do, you can't see it in their eyes but it hurts them too. Why, did Suho– ”

_Wrong. It's not Suho, ma._

“No. It’s just a question I’ve always wondered.”

“I am your mother, Bae Joohyun, and I know you and what’s wrong with you.”

Through glassy eyes and on the verge of breaking down, I forced a smile, even if she couldn’t see it.

“I’m fine, Ma. I just missed hearing your voice.”

* * *

Love?

I only get disappointed by that.

I no longer pursue love, for it only lures me every time. As if I'm trying to search for something invisible, and sometimes I wonder if I'm the only one who's oblivious to it.

Nothing wrong with it. Just supernatural.

* * *

The postman handed me a parcel on the afternoon of May 23rd. I thanked him after I signed the necessary document and went inside, already curious about what it was. It wasn't something grand, the parcel was only a medium length brown envelope. There was nothing that bulked the envelope, it must have contained only a piece of paper. I ripped it carefully and took the contents out.

* * *

May 23rd, I had marked the calendar.

That day, I received Kang Seulgi’s wedding invitation.

It all said in the fancy piece of paper that her wedding would be on the first day of August.

* * *

It was the last day of the month. On that night, I met with Suho. We went to a quiet restaurant where no one would really bother everyone else. We talked about things civilly, a little bit of a surprise for me, but I was grateful that we handled things maturely. Suho made amendments, saying that he didn’t mean to be devastated by the rejection. He was stupid for reacting so and that he realized he could wait a little longer for me to be ready.

“Joohyun, I know what’s your stance on marriage. I won’t force you. But I want to start anew. I want us to begin again.”

Maybe, just maybe, if I made this decision, I wouldn’t make a fool out of myself anymore.

And maybe, just maybe, this could finally fill the hollow in my heart and close the void that kept me wallowing in the dark.

* * *

Seulgi asked me a favor to attend her wedding for me to stop her from committing the biggest mistake of her life.

On August 1st, I was in bed and in the arms of Suho, no clothes on, and Seulgi was probably saying her marriage vows by then.

I told him I was going to take shower alone. He smiled and went to sleep whilst I sobbed my heart under the shower, hoping my cries were muffled by the sound of the running water.

* * *

Everyone has moved on. All things have passed. We can’t let our past hold us back our present and our present be held accountable for our future.

In that way, our lives continue.

* * *

_to be continued._


	2. (That Night, In Between, and After)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That particular night told in Seulgi's point of view.

Around me was the stillness aftermath of a lustful night, clothes were strewn on the floor, Joohyun’s limped naked body on the bed a few meters away. By the adjacent living room, the forgotten birthday cake was now probably attracting ants.

I checked the digital clock on the bedside drawer, it was six minutes to twelve. I tiptoed and quickly put on my turtle neck and slipped into some fresh underwear that I’ve kept around in her closet. I fetched my phone and gently opened the sliding glass doors that connected to her apartment’s cramped balcony.

The phone screen glared brightly when I unlocked it, then I noticed the missed calls that flooded my notifications. All of it came from one number.

I pressed it and waited for the other end to pick up, biting my lip as I waited.

_Ring. Ring._

“Hello?”

I heard his deep, barely awake yet grated voice and smiled. I just disturbed him from his peaceful slumber.

Knowing him and how he hates to be awakened on his rare occasions to get a decent sleep, I debated if I should introduce myself as one of his patients’ family, calling in for an emergency. That would get his ass up in no time.

“Hey, it’s Seulgi.”

There was a muffling sound on his end then a soft, feminine voice calling after him which he answered with an excuse to take this call. I braced myself for his string of incoherent ramblings.

But instead of that, he let out a breathless chuckle, “I have been holding my phone waiting for your message until I fell asleep. Thank God, you’re alive.”

I clicked my tongue, “Would it have been better if I wasn’t?”

I heard a forceful, pained exhale, “Stop that.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He paused before asking, “Are you okay?”

I raked my fingers into my messy locks, “Does it matter whether I am or am not?”

He chuckled softly, “Come on. Can’t a brother not worry over his little sister?”

“You’ve enough to worry. You can just ignore me from now on.”

I could sense that he was already shaking his head, “And you think I can do that?”

I leaned my arms against the concrete railing and looked ahead at Seoul’s skyline and for a moment, I figured that I will miss this view someday.

“You’re asking the wrong question: can you resist me?”

“You always have your way with your words. Such a pain in the ass.”

I fumbled for things to say, a sudden wave of nostalgia hitting me. "In no time, I won't be anymore your resident pain in the ass."

Below me, the sound of a ten-wheeler rolled by, cutting through our shared silence. I heard my brother inhale deeply, weighing in the next words he was about to say.

“Where are you?” he asked, “I’ll pick you up.”

I felt my lips tug a melancholic smile.

On circumstances like this, he knows I’m not in my house in Gangnam-gu. That's why he'd already familiarized the nooks and crannies in Seoul and the bars and clubs around in case I was too drunk to drive myself home.

“No. I’m sober. It’s fine,” I answered.

“Wow, look at you, being a responsible adult.” He snickered but his tone turned into something gentle afterward. "Hey… drop by my house today. Your nephew has been wondering where his ‘other’ aunt is. My wife’s been also trying to invite you over for breakfast.”

I closed my eyes for a moment, picturing out my brother’s quaint yet happy home sharing meals in their dining room. His son and wife are blessed to have my brother, he’d given out all the things he and I barely have from our own.

A happy family.

I turned again, this time leaning my back against the railing as I faced towards the inside view of the apartment. At my vantage point, I could get a glimpse of Joohyun who was sleeping like a log. I probably must have tired her out earlier.

It was going to be the last time, after all. I’m afraid.

So afraid.

Too afraid that I couldn’t bring myself to tell her that she won’t see me – not even my shadow – when the liquid dreaminess of the morning light decides to ebb through the vast pitch-dark skies.

“Yunho…”

Right. He would never answer unless I don’t call him properly. The feudalist tendency is such a bitch.

“Oppa… can you do me a favor?”

He mumbled, “Of course.”

I noticed Joohyun slowly turning towards my direction, eyes still closed, her breasts and the dip downwards her flat stomach now in full view. The contours and curves of the body that I’ve mapped with my fingertips and lips were gleaming under the faint moonlight that managed to slip through the blinders. I suddenly felt an ache and desire pooling between my thighs.

“Give me… Give me a few more hours.”

There was silence. I imagined him with his pitying stare, the gears in his mind working and switching.

I licked my lips in anticipation then he said, “Okay… Then we’ll see you for brunch.”

I agreed, told him a ‘see you soon’ before pressing the bright red ‘end call’ button on the screen. I trudged back inside the room, quietly as possible, and shed the turtle neck off. I slowly sat down on the empty side of the bed, careful not to alert Joohyun as the mattress dipped.

* * *

In one of our conversations before, she told me she wasn’t so good with commitments. The last time she got into one was with her boyfriend she just recently broke up with.

Whereas I wasn’t good with goodbyes. It’s not a surprise when I’ve been running away from my problems; I run away from people too.

This is why I felt a pang of guilt that I couldn't say goodbye to Joohyun earlier. Part of me didn't want to, but simply because I'm a coward. How can I not be one when I told her to crash my impending marriage – no, business transaction – just so I have a reason to escape that day?

I scoffed softly. It’s stupid. I won’t only be embarrassing myself in front of business tycoons and my good-for-nothing father but Joohyun would have to save her face, too.

But the catch is, we would run away together.

But I would lose my inheritances and be stripped of my assets and my father would request a search party.

But… I have Joohyun.

But –

I sighed quietly. I hope that was just easy to do because when imaginations are drawn on paper, it would end up looking like it was made by a child copying a cartoon character from memory.

What a fucking twisted modern fairytale.

* * *

I slowly laid beside her, propping my head on my hand as I faced her. In the morning, the moment when she learns that I’m already gone, she won’t be mad, right?

Who am I to her, anyway? I just happen to be her regular fuck buddy.

I'm an addition of warm bodies in her string of flings with an expiration tag.

“You won’t be looking for me, right, Joohyun?” I whispered to her in the faintest voice I could muster, hoping that she would not hear my clandestine confession. “You will simply move on, realize that I was noncommittal, forget about me…”

I choked back the forming knot in my throat as I felt the corner of my eyes sting. My free hand lingered dangerously above her flushed cheek, dying to feel the suppleness of it beneath my fingertips – to trace her delicate features for one last time.

I fought the urge as I kept my hand down.

Instead, I dared myself to do one of the most intimate gestures, an overstep of this pedagogical boundary in this realm of no-strings-attached arrangement.

I placed a soft kiss on her forehead, feeling a tear slid down as I closed my eyes to savor such tenderness.

I froze when I felt her move slightly but when I looked down, those eyes that used to lure me seductively (sometimes, I would catch her stealing glances at me like I was hers) were closed, her breathing steady, still drifting in her dreamland.

So peaceful, I thought. Indeed, Joohyun’s beauty would soften one’s grief.

I laid my head on her shoulder. She stirred and for a second, I thought she would disengage from my embrace but she shifted to welcome my arrival.

* * *

At the crack of dawn, I gathered my clothes, headed to the bathroom to put them on. In the whirlwind of slipping into these where her scent already lingered, I caught my harried face in the bathroom mirror. I simply tied my hair into a messy bun.

When I walked past the bedroom, her dog, Mao, was following my movements with those big adorable eyes. I sighed and prayed that he wouldn’t make a noise from my departure.

Thankfully, he only laid on his stomach with an unwavering hopeful gaze. I scratched the underside of his snout and Mao mewled in delight.

* * *

Joohyun didn’t want commitments. It only meant that she was used to careless goodbyes or no farewells at all. In that way, maybe there won't be a pain to heal, no regrets to feel.

Without waking her up, without leaving a note, without looking back, I rushed outside her apartment and perhaps, this time, out of her life.

* * *

When I arrived at my brother’s family home, I found him and his three-year-old son, Taejoon, supine on the carpet in the living room, watching his favorite cartoons. I watched them both by the doorway for a moment. My brother would make ‘whooshing’ noises while Taejoon would clap his hands whenever the superhero wins against the villain.

“Aunt Seulgi is here!” Yunho said to my nephew when he finally saw me. Taejoon came running towards me and I scooped the squealing toddler into my arms. He has gotten heavier since the last time I visited which was already a long time ago. I’m surprised he hasn’t forgotten about me.

I gave Taejoon a new toy truck and sweet treats which didn’t amuse Yunho at all. Having a brother who’s also a doctor gives you a slim chance of keeping junk food in your room.

Seconds later, Yunho’s wife joined in and greeted me.

Taeyeon was sweet, loving, a career woman, and someone that our dad never approved of for Yunho to marry at first.

But of course, a headstrong woman could shake a man’s world. Their marriage was my brother’s major defiance against dad that it almost cost his inheritance pool and his incumbency as president of the pharmaceutical company.

All because Yunho didn’t marry to whom our dad asked him for.

I looked at them, thinking that I would probably never have the same thing nor I could give it to my husband in the future – after all, arranged marriages were already pre-determined.

Passionless, colorless, hopeless. All the words with ‘less’ as their suffix in the world can describe.

Useless.

_Loveless._

* * *

“So… next week is your flight to China.”

After our brunch, his wife and son were off for Taejoon’s dental check-up. Taeyeon was a resident physician at one of our company’s partner hospitals, so she has her perks at her disposal that my nephew was also enjoying.

Yunho and I were enjoying the wine that I brought with me by the poolside.

I took a sip then turned to him, “Unfortunately. More like, I’ll be shipped there against my will.”

“You do realize that you don’t have to do this alone.”

“You want to marry my fiancé too? What would your wife say? I heard this superstition that when two siblings marry in the same year, it's bad luck."

“Seulgi.”

“It’s not like I have a choice.”

“You have, Seul.”

“What? To be selfish?” I laughed bitterly then I turned my gaze towards the pool, the waters glittered invitingly. “I do that and then what? He’ll cut our mom’s life support?”

Yunho visibly winced at the mention of mom, his forehead creasing. “I can get us out and we won’t be needing that deal.”

“He almost sacked you before. If he catches you trying to save my sorry ass, what makes you think he won't do it this time?”

“You’ve already done so much for the family, Seul.”

I shook my head slowly, “No. No. Yunho. We were there when dad signed it. You were there when he announced I will be engaged. Look – I don’t give a damn about the inheritance or my position in the company. I’d rather be disowned than to be related to that bastard. But when he dragged our sick mom into the agreement, you know that his word is the law.”

I didn’t realize that each word I said became louder as I spat with disdain. Yunho remained quiet, stoic, swirling the wine glass in his hand.

I let out a heavy sigh, my heartbeat calming. “And if I don’t do it, he’ll drag the twins in this mess, too. It’s better that I’ll take the burden for them.”

Finally, a tired smile thinned his lips, “They miss you. Hyunjin and Yeji.”

“How are they?”

“They’re alright.” Yunho scratched the side of his jaw, “Every time I visit our house, they never fail to ask about you. ‘Where’s Seulgi noona? Where’s Seulgi unnie?’ Seems like I’m never enough for them.”

“I haven’t been a good sister to them,” I murmured, feeling ashamed of the fact that I’ve failed to take care of our younger siblings.

“Don’t say that,” Yunho chided firmly, “You’re every bit of a good sister that we can ask for.”

For the most part in growing up with a detached family, aside from my mom, it has always been my brother who’d compliment me or pat my back for big or small victories. He starts it with annoyance then his demeanor softens into an adoration.

We’re not the most ideal pair of siblings there is. We fight, that’s given. But despite our eight-year age gap, we’ve become each other’s anchor of keeping our sanity afloat.

* * *

The next day, we decided to take the twins out as a breather from their stressful environment at school.

Yunho only cut his work hours to half instead of the usual eight and called the teacher to ‘borrow’ the twins for a day. I ditched mine entirely – just like any other day and called my secretary to take care of things at the office.

I’ll have to raise Sooyoung’s pay soon. It’s her third raise in two years. A little more and I’ll probably offer the vice president’s office to her.

“A deal’s a deal, Hyun. You’ll answer my chemistry assignment!”

I glanced at the backseat of the car when I heard the twins bickering at something they agreed before we picked them up. Yeji was shooting daggers while Hyunjin continued playing his Nintendo Switch, trying to act nonchalant.

“I can’t believe they call us twins but we don’t share the same intelligent brain cells? Man, I don’t feel bad God favors me instead of you, though.” Hyunjin deadpanned.

I could feel Yeji’s eyes were now flaring. After all, we kind of share that trait.

“Stupid.”

“Idiot.”

"Stupid-idiot," Yunho interjected, eyes fixated on the road ahead, his index finger pointing at me.

I rolled my eyes and gave him the finger.

He only laughed, then Hyunjin and Yeji joined in.

Maybe it was their agreement to my brother calling me a ‘stupid-idiot’ or their reaction to the flippant display of my middle finger.

If it was the former then maybe I’d agree too.

* * *

The four of us walked the length of the beach after we had our lunch at a seafood restaurant nearby. We weren’t exactly planning to go for a swim but these days, we rarely had our chance to bond outside suffocating functions, board meetings, and excruciating family dinners that almost always ended up with me walking out.

It’s nothing grandiose as our last trip to Sweden (when was that? Four years ago, perhaps) but for a day, feeling the sand between our toes was our ground for normalcy.

“What does it feel like?”

I threw a split-second glance at Yeji before I popped the can of soda open. “What does what feel like?”

The boys were already a few meters ahead of us, with Yunho’s arm hanging loosely around Hyunjin’s shoulders, laughing at some inside joke that they shared.

She shrugged, averting her eyes that were like mine, and picked up the shell she found. I offered the can to her that was still frizzing. “Never mind.”

I didn’t answer but my silence and an arch of my brow were enough for her to give in.

“Have you fell in love, unnie?”

I gave it a thought.

“Is this our…” I pointed my finger back and forth at us, “kind of girl talk?”

Yeji’s lower lip curled into a slight pout, “Well – yeah. It’ll be like – you know – our last one too, maybe? Before you – ah… before that day.”

I know my sister was also trying to be cautious about bringing up the subject of my wedding. Neither Hyunjin mentioned it. If there was anything admirable about the twins, it’s their shared empathy.

I gave the question some thought.

“I may have.”

Those words rolled off my tongue too easily as if it was the response I usually give.

Yeji tentatively nodded but whatever bubble of thought that she had, she kept it to herself. It was nice that she was opening up to things that are mundane in their form but are more intricate when you delve into them.

I looked up and saw the sky was clear and blue, however, wisps of thin clouds were still visible on the horizon.

Maybe that brief answer was like the catchphrase ‘as clear as the day.’

* * *

We waited for Yunho who was inside a mini shop to buy his favorite menthol candies and water for our drive back home. For the first time today, I paid attention to my phone and checked if something was up.

Only a bunch of emails, Sooyoung’s messages that were work-related updates, and some discount coupons that online shops were offering me.

But nothing from Joohyun.

I imagined her, two days ago, waking up as she flung her arm, to the side of the bed where I laid, expecting to land on my torso. Instead, she didn’t and maybe she wondered if I had left a crumpled paper somewhere with my handwriting scribbled for an apology or to tell her ‘see you tonight’.

Still, she didn’t.

In her nonchalance, Joohyun would have cleaned the mess on the floor, prepared tea (good for one cup instead of two) and breakfast (good for one person), enjoyed a stick of cigarette, played a little while with Mao, readied herself to work then she was gone for the whole day.

Maybe my absence wasn’t yet tangible or she was half-expecting that we’ll meet at the usual bar so she didn’t bother asking where I had gone.

Truth is, I have to defamiliarize myself.

That includes not anymore visiting the places that reminded me of her.

* * *

“Hello, this is the office of Kang – oh my God!”

I was certain that it was still daytime when I arrived at the company building but Sooyoung was looking at me as if she had seen a ghost at midnight with her eyes wide and mouth agape in surprise.

I smirked, amused, “Who’s Kang Oh-My-God?”

She put the caller on hold before Sooyoung turned to me, “You’re back? Like really back?” she said, almost whispering.

I shrugged my blazer off and draped it up the entryway hanger.

“Well, only for this week.”

I heard the disappointment in her voice when she muttered an ‘oh’.

“You’ll have your raise for the next pay.”

Like a switch that turned her mood to another, I could hear her behind giddily clapping and said something along the lines of ‘best boss ever’.

* * *

It wasn’t an exaggeration when Sooyoung had me scheduled for three meetings today as they finally seized my presence at work. It was a rare opportunity these days as my secretary puts it.

I bit back a yawn as an investor relations officer was presenting the data of the corporate performance last quarter. I was slightly alerted when my phone vibrated inside my pocket, a thoughtful hope suddenly resurfaced on my mind.

The text was from the club owner, asking me if I could play for tonight.

_Tap. Tap. Delete. Tap. Delete. Tap. Send._

Returning the phone inside my pocket, I turned my attention back to the presentation.

I yawned discreetly this time, suddenly wishing that I shouldn’t have turned down the club owner’s offer.

* * *

After my routine of cleaning myself up and supposedly preparing myself for bed, it suddenly felt strange. I wasn’t accustomed to it.

In my loneliness, I was reminiscing the usual nights I had at the club where I met an odd crowd of strangers who were there to have some good time, to forget about reality.

I felt a swell of pride whenever I think about the beats and music that I've composed and seen people enjoying it.

I was feeling a bit tipsy after I took a few swigs of Pale Pilsen. The next thing I knew, I found myself at the garage where I kept the jazz records and certain memories.

* * *

I counted up to three before I opened my eyes. Had I been closing my eyes for hours? Days? Weeks?

Maybe I had finally disrupted my REM cycle and then I would wake up beside my mother and siblings, realizing that it was all just a bad dream condensed in three hours. Like inception.

I turned my head towards the vinyl record player, the last jazz song I remembered playing was Billie Holiday’s Strange Fruit.

I looked around the dim garage that was illuminated by a lampshade. A sudden montage followed: Joohyun asking me if I had a cigarette at the bar, bringing her drunken state here and nursing her back to sobriety, running to each other at the club or the bar. Secret glances. That date night. The tentative brush of our shoulders when I made her listen to jazz, the next thing that led to it. Those encounters where I made sure to mark her. Those after-sex moments when one would think the other was asleep then feel a kiss on the tip of the nose. Our last night.

All of this strange friendship with a question mark.

So on, so forth.

And then the tears came.

_So on, so forth._

* * *

I volunteered to pick up the twins after school at three in the afternoon.

When I peeked through the window by the shotgun seat, I only saw Hyunjin walking towards the car. He got inside, pecked my cheek, then we finally drove off. I asked him where Yeji was and turns out she was practicing for a school competition with her friends.

Too bad for her, I was going to treat them at Baskin Robbins. Yet, I was happy she had found something to destress herself from academics.

“Huh, Carly Rae Jepsen?”

I heard him commenting on the current song that was playing on the car stereo.

_Gimmie Love._

“You know her?”

Hyunjin hummed, “The girl I like likes her songs.”

I smiled at that, “She’s got good taste.”

* * *

Hyunjin and I debated over which was the best Carly Rae Jepsen song. His was Run Away With Me, mine was All That.

Then I remembered that one night when Joohyun made me dance with her to Run Away With Me in her apartment. Sober, still with clothes on, with nothing but unadulterated bliss and welcoming the prospect of running away together.

She said the song was something that reminded her of me, the Jazz enthusiast and DJ Seulgi combined. Perhaps because of the saxophone riff at the beginning then the adrenaline-pumping beats that combined well along with it.

(Absolutely not about the lyrics, no. Right?)

I conceded.

* * *

Fridays were supposed to be my usual play at the club since the weekend comes after that. It was the day of celebration for getting through a tough week or for letting yourself loose to booze and music.

I got off from work, heading outside the building when I received a call from Yunho.

“Clear your schedule tonight.”

I asked him why.

“Dinner at house. Dad wants us all there. The twins already arrived.”

My slow buildup of recuperating myself this week was singlehandedly ruined.

* * *

The food was bland and it’s been like that every ‘family’ dinner that I would wonder if my taste buds were remembering a dreadful food then my brain was refusing to register it.

I was chewing the steak slowly, trying to savor its juiciness and its spices to suffice my unfound appetite.

The soft scratching of the utensils against the plate was the only sound that filled the dining room at the moment.

I wondered what family dinners were in another household.

Was it warm? Unlike here that it’s cold and unwelcoming? Were they complete? Were they bonding over good talks and how-was-your-days even when their meals are inexpensive? Was it filled with hearty laughter instead of disheartening remarks?

I could only wonder.

* * *

“The wedding will be in full swing this August.”

No one dared to speak, nor move. Their eyes were darting between me and dad, anticipating a reaction.

I gave him a curt nodded, not long until I realized that I was cutting the meat rather forcefully.

He was only glaring at me before he added, “You’ll be flying to China next week. Meet Yifan there and decide where you'll hold the wedding. Here or on the mainland. Then plan with your coordinators.”

He wiped his mouth with a table napkin before he stood and retreated to the private lounge.

After he was gone, I could hear the collective sighs around.

* * *

I decided to visit the person who used to give me strength and hope.

Anxiousness and worry brooded over my chest as I gripped the handle of the door, trying to steady myself before she sees me. I let out a deep breath.

It’s okay, Seulgi, it’s your time to give her strength. Try to ease her pain. Smile. Try.

I was hoping to see a smile that would welcome me, and eager request for a warm embrace, and a loving kiss on my forehead.

Instead, the room revealed to me an unconscious figure on the bed, wires from machines hooked to her frail body, the occasional beeps of her still-beating heart resonated within the intensive care unit.

* * *

“I have a love and hate relationship with my job.”

Yunho came shortly after to also check on mom. I told him I was staying over here for the night to look after her. He got me an overnight bag and some essentials I can use.

I stared blankly at the heartrate machine, observing the lines. “Being the company president?”

He scoffed, almost laughing. “I studied to become a doctor, not to become a businessman.”

“Right.”

Yunho slid his hands inside the pockets of his pristine white coat.

“It’s always an honor to see your patient improving. It’s those things that keep us working, to never lose heart in this profession that sometimes puts you on a matter of life and death situations.” He paused. “But you have to always put in mind that you’re not a messiah. Science helps but sometimes, you can’t save people. It’s not on you.”

“Are you saying that because there’s no hope anymore to save our mother?”

There he was again. That pitying stare.

* * *

I flung myself to my bed, feeling burdensome after yet another stressful day at the company. We had to finalize some deals to ensure the smooth flow of transactions as soon as possible.

Out of the blue, I had this urge to contact Joohyun, maybe to ask her if it was possible to meet up.

To tell her that I’ve missed her.

In a matter of seconds, my thumb was already hovering her contact card on my phone screen.

I didn’t press it, suddenly thinking that she was probably with someone to keep her company for the night, to satisfy her. She’ll moan another name the moment she cum – that is if that someone can make her cum.

I threw the phone beside me, the frustrations surging up.

Then, I was submitting myself to an imagination that Joohyun was with me instead.

Her gentle hands all over me, her warm body pressed against mine as she whispers sweet (or dirty) things to me. Her full lips now on my neck, then slowly trailing to my breasts, teasing them and licking them with a flick of her sinful tongue.

My skin warms up as I could feel her lips nipping and kissing the length of my inner thighs.

Then her fingers fidget on the piece of damp cloth covering my core. She slides a tentative finger, to feel the wetness before sliding another. Her fingers search for the bundle of nerves and my eyes roll at the back of my head in pleasure when she strokes my clit, my legs shaking and barely keeping it open.

I few more strokes and finally, a grope on my breast, I let out a low moan.

Panting as I opened my eyes, I took my right hand out of my underwear that was dripping with warm, filmy fluid.

* * *

“Seul? You need to come here to dad's office. He said it's something important."

“Is he angry?”

A pause. Hesitation or confirmation?

“He’s too silent.”

_Oh, Good God._

* * *

There was something that made my father a man that is feared by many.

It wasn’t because he could hire men who are capable to do his dirty works on the sidelines. It was his way with words that could simply cut through you.

In my entire life, he had never raised his hand to me nor any of us.

At least, until today.

I felt the walls around me enclosing, then Yunho’s presence stood in between us, a protective arm shielding me away from further harm. My ears were ringing horribly as I heard the spiteful accusations that my dad was saying.

My left cheek was stinging, a mark of hot red now visible, but I kept my head down.

As I kept on looking down, I saw the pictures that he threw at me the moment I arrived, scattered on the floor that had my face and another woman seemingly intimate with one another.

“I did not raise a child like _you_!”

With that, I felt my blood boil.

“You never raised _any_ of your children!”

Yunho held him back when he was going to do it again and talked him through to calm himself first. I only wanted to cry.

With finality in his voice, he said, “You will get married, be a good wife, and you will leave your whore.”

_Don’t call Joohyun that, bastard._

He wasn’t anymore putting me in a dilemma. It was a threat.

* * *

Sometimes, I would think if my father remembers my name at all.

Because to him, I’m always ‘ingrate’ or ‘the one who hasn’t done anything noble for the family’

* * *

I then deleted her number on my contacts.

But I remember it by heart.

How can I erase it within my system?

* * *

The doorbell was ringing continuously for a good ten seconds until I opened the door to see Doyoung. He was kind enough to bring me pizza and some chips when he knew of what had happened.

“No offense, your father’s head deserves to be under the guillotine.”

I chuckled darkly. I always find Doyoung’s remarks hilarious but non-offending. I met this kid during his internship at the company and I even offered him a job. But he realized he wanted to pursue law rather than be stuck in one of the cubicles at the accounting office.

We were having a catch up while we played some games on the console. After a few matches and calling it a truce, I turned to him.

“Do you still visit the bar?”

He nodded. “You’ll be gone to China tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah. Meeting dear future husband.”

“Noona, are you sure about it?”

“What are the chances if I join a rebellion group rather than agreeing to a marriage of convenience?”

I waited for a small laugh or an eager nod to see if it was a good joke or a preamble for a justification on why I should leave all the wealth behind.

Doyoung only wore an expression of worry.

* * *

“So, you won’t anymore see _your_ Joohyun.”

The primal sense of ownership was resurfacing like a memory.

I admit I liked the sound of it.

“We don’t have anything in between, Doyoung-ah.”

I heard him let out a sound of disappointment.

“You look like shit, noona.”

I ran my palm over my hair, an attempt to flat-out its mess.

“But you will find her for me and tell her what I said, okay?”

* * *

Long queues, delayed boarding calls, the haste, the stillness, the yawning idleness in lounges. The airport was perhaps one of those places where it ultimately tests your character.

But this was also where you know about patience.

A passport with a ticket to Beijing in one hand, a suitcase in another, I entered the aircraft cabin and settled myself in my assigned seat.

A few minutes before the plane was taking off, a perfunctory announcement and guidelines of do’s and don’ts through the PA system in between, I nearly missed Doyoung’s message.

* * *

_I met her last night._

_She didn’t admit that she was Joohyun but I know it was her._

_Noona, you’re both so screwed._

_You know I never lie, right?_

_She feels the same way._

* * *

Beijing was a new change of scenery and perspective and within the first few minutes of my stay, I thought I could treat this as a vacation rather than a business trip.

I was getting caught up by the overwhelming jetlag as soon as I arrived at the hotel. Messages from my siblings were left unread, I missed a call from my father.

About half an hour later, an unknown number was registered into my contacts. It was one from Wu Yifan.

* * *

He invited me over dinner at a restaurant that offered continental dishes, but I also wanted to savor some authentic Chinese cuisine so I ordered solely from the same menu.

Wu Yifan wasn’t obnoxious, to say the least.

He had left quite a good impression so far, he wasn’t pushy. He’s four years older than me, learned to speak Korean when he used to handle their company’s branch at Ulsan, and based on his appearance, he’s quite a good catch.

“We have a choice.”

“What do we know about ‘choices’?” that was rhetorical.

Yifan shrugged, “Well, I was thinking that we should hold the wedding here. But, if you wish that it’ll be in some other place besides Korea, that would be alright. I trust your judgment."

Trust.

It doesn’t suit well in this context.

* * *

In the end, we decided that it would take place in Shanghai, the exact date would be on the first day of August. Yifan called his connections to set our appointments with the coordinators.

“By next month, we can already send out the invitations.”

He was smiling gently and I wasn’t sure if it was to dissipate the awkwardness or an apologetic gesture to this arrangement that we both couldn’t escape.

* * *

Two days after, I met with a designer from Australia to show me an array of options on the wedding dresses.

There was this part of history in England that Queen Victoria was said to be the first to associate the color white to weddings, the color was an unusual option back in the days.

Later on, the etiquette books for the elites in Europe wrote that white was a connotation of innocence and virginal purity. Christians started to believe it.

If that was the case, I was far from what a bride must embody.

I wanted to laugh and almost asked if they had any wedding dress in black.

* * *

I told Yifan over lunch that I didn’t understand why we need that number of guests.

“You want to cut it to fifty guests instead?”

I plopped a steaming dim sum in my mouth, "Do we really know the other fifty? Or do you have that many friends?"

Yifan didn’t answer for a moment and I took my chance of looking outside the restaurant. The busy sidewalk was still lit with streetlamps, the bulbous newly replaced Chinese lanterns dangling above street food carts and stores, people were hurrying walking under the scorching Beijing heat.

“You’re right. Just invite the most important people.”

“Hmm. It’ll cut us some budget. Chinese are frugal, I heard.”

It was the first time I heard him laugh.

“Méi cuò”

* * *

The last sun rays began to disappear into the night. Yunho called me after he was done with his rounds at the infirmary.

“How’s the prep going? I take that the wedding will happen there?”

I told him that it was going well, in terms of technicalities. The hotel was already booked for the day and Yifan was mostly the one who had the contacts to the wedding planners. I joked how I was only sitting there, looking pretty because I couldn't care less about what the outcome would be.

“You know, Seul…” his voice softened this time, “I hope that you’ll find your happiness someday. I hope _she_ does, too.”

Footnotes on _she_ : Joohyun.

“What are you on?”

I heard him exhale, a consolation of his advice that would follow.

“Sometimes, it can be the most screwed up thing you can ever feel. Then suddenly, it’s the best gift. Then, a curse after. Love is not linear. But you can always love as many times until you’ve found the love that is _freeing_.”

I couldn’t find my voice, it felt that words were stuck at the base of my throat, unable to answer.

I heard a faint ‘get some rest’ then a beep followed.

* * *

Perhaps the hardest thing for me to do was to love somebody but still ran away.

I had that realization as I drank my third bottle of beer, crying out for Joohyun who was 562 miles away.

* * *

I smoothened out the length of the dress with my hand, its bodice hugging my curves perfectly. The gown was created using ivory satin. There was an intricate lace overlay that covered the bottom of the gown in a beautiful pattern.

The designer was gushing at how I looked beautiful in it, how it was made for me, how I was a lucky woman.

I caught Yifan through the mirror’s reflection, gazing at me and his lips soften into a smile that broke my heart.

I knew that look wasn’t meant for me and I felt sorry for him.

* * *

Yifan was in love with someone else.

He openly admitted it to me when I asked if he had some sob stories to spare to couple it with our drinks. When he told me about the girl, he looked sincere and had genuine intentions for her.

Heck, he even had plans to propose to her until this fiasco happened.

The first thing that came to my mind, why was everyone wanting to marry these days?

“Why didn’t you stand for your relationship with her?”

He drummed his fingers against the armrest. “Probably the same way why you accepted this arrangement. Forced? No other choice? It’s complicated? Something like that.”

I perfectly understood him.

“So, you were imagining the woman you love fitting the gown instead of me?”

With that, Yifan blushed and sheepishly rubbed his nape. I told him he need not be ashamed of it.

“You could, you know,” he sipped on his bottle of beer before continuing, “help yourself and imagine that I was the man you also love, planning with the wedding and stuff.”

Oh, Yifan.

If only you knew.

* * *

And he did know.

A total of five empty beer bottles later, hazy consciousness, and sloppy kisses that followed after, Yifan knew my answer.

* * *

I tried to reach for the pill on my bedside table when Yifan’s thrust reminded me of the business at hand. I gasped when he gained speed and I instinctively grabbed his shoulders. I felt his mouth was rough all over me – my neck, my breasts. I tried to steady myself and reached again for the pill and almost missing the leftover beer that would have toppled down.

His eyes were closed, his lips murmuring a name that was foreign. I popped the pill into my mouth and swallowed it hard.

When his thrusts slowed down, I knew he was almost there.

He pulled himself out and let his hand finish his release, moaning as he spilled his seeds on to my stomach.

Yifan let his body drop next to mine, catching his breath.

“I – I imagined the woman that I love instead of you.”

He was shameless about it but I let him.

“I tried to imagine you were the person that I love, too.”

Yifan hummed, sensing a doubt that was suspended in mid-air.

“But I couldn’t.”

He turned his head to face me, “Why?”

I looked at him, dead in the eye, “ _She_ could make me cum.”

Was that a cloud of befuddlement in his eyes? Or the look of a man with a wounded ego?

* * *

We didn’t talk after that night.

We never talked about what happened during that night, either.

* * *

About three days later, Yifan finally messaged me that we had to finalize the list of guests so that it would be included for the printing on the wedding invitations.

“As agreed, we’ll only include fifty guests.”

I nodded, noticing how he was suddenly stiff and awkward around me. I shrugged off any thoughts and helped with sorting the list for the next thirty minutes.

The names ranged from businessmen, investors, his family, and then mine, his friends, and my closest circle.

He counted again and it was exactly fifty.

Yifan turned to me, "Maybe you'd invite one or two more if you have someone in mind? The more, the merrier, they say.”

I did have someone in mind.

“Make it fifty-one.”

Make it one more and sadder.

* * *

The coordinators informed us that they can already take it from there. They reassured us that they’ll handle the preparations seamlessly and we could check the progress from time to time.

That somehow culminated in my stay in China.

* * *

I stared at the brown envelope that slightly bulked, its contents were the actual wedding invitations. There were two envelopes when Yifan handed them over to the dinner table. He said mine were for the guests I’ll send out when I get back to Seoul while he’ll take care of his here. The invitations got earlier than we expected, I said.

It was already my last night in China and I had this scenario in my head that our dinner wouldn’t turn out well. But Yifan and I were surprisingly back as acquaintances.

“I’m sorry.”

Was he apologizing for that unspeakable event a few nights ago?

Yifan’s lips thinned before he spoke again, “This union… It’s purely about the money, expansion. I can give you that and to your company. That’s the point of everything, anyway. But I can never make you happy the same way she can.”

His words were a prelude to our marriage that could never work, enunciating a warning that along the way, neither of us will be faithful.

He was already apologizing for something that hasn’t happened yet.

I heard this prose that marriage is indeed scary. It’s somehow like entering an island through a bridge, but once the bridge explodes, how will you go back?

* * *

I heard that prose from Joohyun before.

“Marriage is scary,” she murmured the lines as she read, the book (The Quiet Ones) propped open on her lap. “Like you go to an island through a bridge then once you’re there, the bridge explodes. How will you go back?”

It rained all day and unto that night. I got back from the kitchen and brought two bottles of beer to get us by the cold weather. Strangely, the beer was still cold to my touch but once I started to drink it, the liquor does its job of getting me warm.

She scooted over the bed, a silent invitation to settle behind her while she leans back against my chest.

“That analogy. It makes sense,” I started drawing circles on her bare shoulder, the thin strap of her tank top had slid down.

Joohyun inclined her head slightly to look at me and asked, “Are you a Christian?”

“Catholic. By paper. I haven’t gone to a Sunday mass or worship in ages.”

I had a thought that she would next ask me about my stance on marriage since I’m Catholic (was I still valid to be called as such?) and it’s the religion that is led by grey-haired, unmarried men but has a lot to say about matrimony (Doyoung had a term for some of them, Clerico-fascists).

But when I glanced down, her eyes had a mischievous glint and a devilish smirk.

She turned to me completely, her face now mere inches from mine, and whispered her intent, “How about… you’ll be a fervent devotee and worship _me_ instead?”

Her book was discarded, our clothes next. The bottles of beer left forgotten. I said a prayer, she whimpered a plea. She was warm, wet, and ready and her body gave a consenting shudder.

Instead of calling for God, Joohyun moaned my name as my tongue slipped inside her.

* * *

For the next weeks since my arrival back in Seoul, I threw myself to work.

I had seen less and less of my friends, politely declining their invites for some drinks at the club. Doyoung had asked if I would visit the bar soon, my response was either I was too tired or I wasn’t in the mood.

Over a coffee break, I told Sooyoung to start sending the wedding invitations to their addressee.

She frowned, “Bae Joohyun? I haven’t heard of her. A new investor?”

I let her hand to me the fancy piece of thick, scented paper. It had both Yifan and I’s names engraved on the center alignment, just below it was Joohyun’s name written in beautiful and even cursive.

What made her invitation particularly unique was its cry for help.

An invitation towards damnation.

“Sorry, boss. Seems like I don’t have her address in my directory. Do you have?” Sooyoung prosaically asked after she double-checked her folder.

A question on geography, I see.

I answered Joohyun’s address.

* * *

“Noona, I have a question.”

Without looking away from the quarterly reports that I was currently reviewing, I asked him what he was curious about.

“Did you ever know that Joohyun-ssi has a boyfriend?”

“I did.”

“She was cheating on her boyfriend for you?!” I was certain that his shriek would have reached the other end of the office hallway.

I almost threw the folder at him, “Must you be loud? And no, they’ve broken up when we – ”

Had an affair? A relationship? A fling? What was it, exactly?

Ah. No-strings-attached. Strange bedfellows.

“Yeah. Yeah. I got it, fine.” Doyoung waved a hand in dismissal. “I’ll pretend I didn’t see her with a good-looking guy in a restaurant the other evening when I had dinner with my parents. Fine. Or I’ll forget the idea that maybe you were a rebound. Silly, right?”

* * *

A spelling bee this time.

Spell ‘pathetic’.

K-a-n-g space S-e-u-l-g-i

Wrong?

But I would argue that orthography is evolving.

* * *

In my disheveled state, not my quite polite self yet, at the most ungodly hour, a call from Yunho had me frantically driving on the still-empty streets of the metropolitan.

The hospital contours and antiseptic lights would discourage any ounce of strength left in you the moment you enter it. Hyunjin, Yeji, and my father were there, in their most vulnerable selves.

I imagined if family reunions were like this: emotional, nostalgic, heart-wrenching.

Tasked to deliver the news, Yunho must have hated his profession from that moment.

All the money in this world but it will never guarantee you immortality.

* * *

“You were her favorite child all along.”

“I wasn’t even there. I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

An oncologist, one of Yunho’s colleagues, said that things were supposed to be “looking up” but suddenly, her body couldn’t anymore salvage what remaining ounce of strength she had to fight a little longer.

On our mother’s deathbed, it was her eldest child who held her hand.

“I was there but she called for you.”

I shut my eyes, bristling at this point, an anguished scream wanting to crawl out.

My brother took my hand in his as it was quivering, “She said… It’s alright, Seulgi. She said that you’ve done well.”

* * *

“This is how most stories end in the hospital. Not with crash carts and sirens and electric shocks to the chest, but with an empty room, a crisp white bed, silence.”

\- Jacob Appel

* * *

The late Diana, Princess of Wales, had an epiphany days before her wedding with Charles. She had it known that she was already doomed.

To seal her fate, the asshole that he was, Charles told her the night before their wedding that he never loved her.

“It’s not a good idea watching Princess Diana’s documentary, unnie," Yeji said to me, handing me the bowl of mixed chips. “Not when your wedding is, what? It’s tomorrow already.”

When the ball was tossed, Diana wanted to run away. But it was too late to call off the wedding, everyone was talking about it, everyone was expecting her to be the prince’s bride.

And the budget. Just imagining the amount of money that was already thrown for it, it’s impossibly impractical to flip everything.

British taxpayers would have revolted. Elizabeth II would solemnly cry “God Save Me!”.

“Ah, is this where you will draw inspiration – hm no, lessons. Yeah, lessons. Right?” Yeji mused, “Because that’s so depressing.”

 _Here is the stuff of which fairytales are made_ … _but fairytales usually end at this point with the simple phrase: 'They lived happily ever after.' This may be because fairy stories regard marriage as an anticlimax after the romance of courtship…_

What a prescient analogy from the archbishop of Canterbury it was.

“Seulgi unnie…” in her softest voice, Yeji pulled me back from my stupor. “Don’t do stupid tomorrow…”

I smiled, a minor conciliatory act, “I’m wiser than that.”

* * *

We lie through our teeth and swallow our tongues.

I do tell lies on occasion. The last time was when I told Joohyun that she wasn’t my type.

* * *

The wedding was starting in less than twenty minutes.

Seeing things through my veil, I must admit that the venue was breathtaking, that one would be too ashamed to ruin it.

Yerim, who was the younger sister of Taeyeon, handed me the bouquet with a dreamy smile.

“Goodness! I know that you’re in an arranged marriage and all but hey, who knows? You might realize that you’re meant to be, even if you didn’t put your best foot forward at first.”

I forced out a smile then asked her if she had any idea if all the guests have arrived.

“I had Taeyeon unnie check it but she mentioned that all fifty guests are here. They’re complete now.”

Wrong.

We sent fifty-one invitations.

All of a sudden, I had my hand wrapped around my father’s arm, the piano formed melodies that commenced the wedding march, everyone’s eyes were all on me, Yifan was smiling at the end of the altar.

But Joohyun never came.

* * *

Radiance and romance may bring a smile, even momentary cheer. But they change nothing. Everyone else had a splendid time but the pageantry was simply pageantry.

* * *

And it all happened too fast, then.

With the pronouncement of vows, the slip of the tongue, the gasps, the calls, the tumultuous shock, the bride became the scorned woman.

Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.

The next thing I know, I was flirting with disaster.

* * *

“Oh my God! Hyunjin, I can’t believe it! I was rooting for her!”

“Yes! I know! I can’t believe it too but do you see me rejoicing for it? Yeji, a little help? Please, call her!”

“She did it! She didn’t do _the_ stupid, Hyunjin! Woah, I’m so amazed! I got chills!”

“Our sister literally ran away!”


	3. 2021

_**10** _

Suho and I had just sat down at our reserved table inside the restaurant when he signaled the waiter to bring in the dishes with a single finger snap, then a twenty-something man served the empty table with plates, bowls, and stainless pots.

My nose wrinkled at the platter of sweet and savory ginger chicken. “That sure looks scrumptious but that’s a hard pass for me," I told him, picking up the fork and knife and began my gastronomical journey for tonight with a grilled Boston scrod.

Suho snickered, “You looked undeniably pale after you had a bite of chicken taco a long time ago.” He picked the chopsticks and transferred a thin slab of roasted Peking duck to his plate.

I glared at him, “It’s because there is this one man who didn’t pay attention when I told him about my allergies.”

He raised his hand in feign surrender. “Aw, come on. That was seven years ago! Out of all the wrongs I did, that’s the one you’re still holding against me.”

“I almost missed my first meeting with my bosses because I looked like a corpse. My promotion was at stake.”

Suho only chuckled to himself then began to talk about what needed to be improved in the restaurant while I busied myself tasting the dishes.

Fettuccini pasta, beef menudo, grilled lobster, paella. Each bite gave me a glimpse of one country to another, and somehow, I had the faintest opportunity to pretend that I was a food connoisseur or a Michelin star inspector.

* * *

I caught the sight of a sundress, a bright smile, and twinkling eyes that seemed to tell me that she was happy with her time at the daycare.

The little girl walked towards me with a bounce in her steps and I carried her as soon as she wanted to sit on my lap.

“Hey, you didn’t even give your dad a kiss!” Suho whined, “Are you both ganging up on me again?”

“Seems like Hwayoung likes me more than her daddy,” I said, taunting a cheeky grin at him.

“No, she doesn’t.”

“Hwayoung-ah, a kiss on the cheek?” the girl obliged, giggling. “Well? See? You should have bought her that mini house before I did.” I teased.

Split seconds later, anyone inside would pause for a moment and think if the woman who just graced the interiors just came straight out of a billboard ad for a branded tailored-suit or a salon-sponsored hairstyle.

Keeping a natural smile, she greeted the staff with a dulcet voice and asked with a tinge of worry on how things were running in the restaurant so far.

Hwayoung wriggled out of my hold and went to her, she couldn’t anymore wait for the woman to take her seat by our table first and beside Suho.

The parking space in front of the restaurant, the woman said, was usurped with other SUVs in its narrow street hence, it took her a while to park the car right.

Suho noted it with a thoughtful nod, side-commenting that South Korea was revamping its urban planning.

“Anyway, that’s something we should also include in our next improvements for the restaurant, hm? We should take our part in the adjustments around.” The woman said to Suho, a soft smile lingering on her features.

Finally, she turned to me, “Joohyun, is he giving you a hard time?” she jerked her head slightly to the man beside her. Suho simply rolled his eyes.

I let out a chuckle, “Trust me, Jinah. I’ve put up with him just fine before. It beats me why you’ve stayed with him this long.”

“You two are talking about me as if I'm not here, jeez, not my fault if this turns awkward," Suho interjected as he gave Hwayoung a scoop of chocolate ice cream. Jinah slapped his shoulder and scolded him for giving the child some sweets without having her proper meal yet.

In the hilarity of their banter, I took a sip of my red iced tea.

* * *

“So, Joohyun,” Suho looked at me, “What do you think of the menu?”

I pursed my lips as I leaned back, “You should raise your chefs’ pay. They’ve outdone themselves this time.”

Jinah clasped her hands gleefully, the gold band on her finger glinted momentarily under the lights, “Alright, that’s a relief! Joohyun, thank you so much for taking up the invite.”

“Don’t mention it. Can’t refuse free dinner.”

I gave myself a few more minutes to catch up with them, then decided that I must head home before the rain would start to fall hard. A plausible outcome which explained the unbearable humidity earlier.

“Hwayoung-ah, say bye-bye to Aunt Joohyun now,” Jinah told the toddler. With a smile, Hwayoung gave me a chaste kiss on my cheek and I returned her gesture with a tight embrace.

* * *

Before I could completely step outside the restaurant, Suho wanted to speak to me privately. He excused us and Jinah nodded before turning back to their head chef, continuing their discussion on the needed improvements of the menu.

“I – uh, there’s something I need to give back to you.” He said, taking out something from his pocket.

Familiarity once again took a hold of me.

“What would your wife say?” I tried to humor out while looking at the small velvet box resting on his palm.

Suho lifted a shoulder in his haste, a defensive action.

“On the contrary, Jinah was the one who found this inside a box. Well – you know, we were in a hurry and just grabbed stuff and put them in the boxes. This was found underneath the books I own. She asked me if I were to give this to you before as a gift.”

I smiled sadly, finally taking it with my hands.

“But then she saw the note underneath it, it had someone else’s name. Someone else gave it to you.” Suho continued, his tone lowered to something gentler, cautious.

Slowly, the box popped open, and memories of that night came rushing back.

At that moment, I realized the amount of sentimentality this bracelet had.

* * *

Something was forbidding between Suho and me after we amicably ended things for good.

A few months after we decided to give our failed relationship a chance, we decided to move in under one roof. A decision that we thought could deepen our trust and, well, ‘love’ for one another.

However, starting anew after your relationship was left in tatters won't ever guarantee stability.

Long story short, we never patched things up to give way for a clean slate.

Suho grew impatient, bit by bit. My uncertainties caved me in.

One day, he just sat me down and said, “Joohyun, we tried but not hard enough.”

And we didn’t fight.

No voices were raised, no insults were hurled, no plates were flying around – it was the most mutual feeling we had between ourselves. Finally, we were on the same page when wedding bells and talks of having a family together couldn’t bring us to an agreement.

If I had to make things bearable after we broke up (again), as bizarre as the situation was, I considered him as a life experience.

The next day, boxes filled up the studio apartment as we took our turns taking our stuff.

When I got back to my old apartment, that’s when I felt that I’ve left something important back there. I called the landlady to check on the place, only to give me a disappointing answer. I couldn’t talk to Suho if he had it as we gave each other spaces for a long while*.

(*A long while also means he ‘moved on’ faster than I did from my initial hurt. The next time I heard of him, a year later, he put a ring on a fellow business administration major back at the university, Im Jinah. Then they had a kid.

And after those surreal encounters, the awkward intonations and spaces between conversations, the kid’s au natural way of melting people’s hearts, all was well.

Then, boom, I was Hwayoung’s de facto godmother.

Strange, strange things happen in the twilight zone.)

I never forgot the bracelet Seulgi gave to me but holding on to it while I had to fix my life would only keep the wounds open.

* * *

The rain outside subsided. I turned off the tap, the usual silence in the air followed.

To keep me cozy after a much-needed shower, I prepared myself the usual cup of green tea then burrowed myself under the covers. Mao joined in, with his curious stare, he began to sniff the box that stored the bracelet.

I patted his head and smiled, “Is it familiar to you, too?”

He tilted his head then rested his chin on my stomach.

Something compelled me to take the bracelet out. A scintillating arrow symbol with a small, round diamond intertwined in a minimalist, faceted white gold bezel.

Initially, I thought this was made of silver but Graff only makes jewelry in diamonds and gold.

I couldn’t fathom how much this was but then again, knowing who Seulgi was, the cost of this bracelet from a luxury brand is probably just coins-worth for her.

Oh, Joohyun. So much about involving yourself with a rich person.

I dangled the bracelet between my fingers, “Four years… You found yourself back to me.”

The edge of a paper managed to peek through its soft plush. I dissembled it from the box and found the note that I have yet to read. A first since she gave it to me during my birthday years ago.

_Joohyun,_

_You ought to see something you’ve struck me with._

_It’s your arrow in my heart._

For once, I told myself not to lie anymore. I let myself think of Seulgi for tonight.

And for once, I let myself break apart.

* * *

“I’m so fucking done with it! With everything! With – with him!”

Cue the tears, the string of curses that would follow, another shot, another order for a stronger liquor, and maybe the tissues, too.

“He forgot about our anniversary! And I would have just let it pass because he’s been busy with work –”

– There was a thud on the table, an indication of utter disappointment, and an audible scoff. ‘There must be a side chick’ I heard someone say in our small group situated in the secluded part of the club.

" – But when he got home, I expected him to greet me. Instead, he said 'You're gonna hate me on this' and oh God, I really did! How can he tell me he wants us to move to Canada now when he disagreed with me before on the same idea when I was offered a transfer there!”

Yuri, who just got back from Japan to take her vacation leave here for four weeks, began to rub the miserable-looking Wendy on her back.

Wendy straightened and swatted her hand, "Please don't do that, or I might cry for real." Then she took deep breaths and blinked fast to prevent the dam of tears from spilling.

"Wendy, sweetie, prepare to dirty your hands with paper works." Hyoyeon said flatly as if she was trying to say ‘I’ve-seen-this-coming’.

I sipped on my tequila, “I agree with Hyo.”

Yuri nodded as well, throwing a pitying glance at Wendy.

“Aw, girl. That’s going to be messy, that’s for sure.”

“Divorce is messy but marriage is messier.”

Yuri’s brows stitched together, “Isn’t it the other way around?”

I tried to contain my chuckle as Hyoyeon refuted, the flare and seriousness now taking over her like when she mentors her team members at the company.

“Listen. In marriage, when things just don’t align with the fucking stars, everything gets lousy. And when the inconvenience starts, that’s where everything starts to fall apart. Divorce might cause you a lot of money but, at least after that, you’re no longer bound to one another.”

Wendy gawked at us as if each of our heads grown another extra, “I can’t just divorce him!”

“Seungwan, we should be leaving the martyr trope in the past century," I said, placing a cigarette between my lips.

“Didn’t you all ever consider that I have a son with him?”

Hyoyeon groaned, “Ah, shit. Child custody. Right.”

Yuri suddenly sobered up, “I wanna see Renjun!”

* * *

Just like what Yuri wished, it took a month and on Wendy’s day-off from her professorial job at the university that Renjun was reunited with us.

The little tyke gave us a bit of joy when he started to sing, he’s been hinting his potential to his parents.

They are a talented bunch but Wendy chose not to sign up for an entertainment company when she was scouted in high school. Fame and glory but it would be trouble, she said. Her husband produces music, though, and his name became renowned in the music industry over the years.

Over lattes later, Wendy proceeded with her Husband anecdote, this time on the sole reason why she couldn’t consider filing a divorce.

“The week after the anniversary and our argument, I don’t know what came to me but God… he looked so heavenly. I stared at him and thought, when did he get so fucking hot?”

"Oh, boy," Hyoyeon remarked, not liking where this was going.

“Please, I haven’t had a good fuck in a long time and make-up sex is actually wild, you know. Highly recommend it.”

Though the sentiments were addressed in general form, Wendy was specifically eyeing me when she said, “That is, if you have a partner. You can't even imagine half of it unless you have someone with a connection, a bond.”

"Oh," I muttered, trying to sound interested.

Anyway, there was a cheery announcement that baby number two was coming.

 _Oh_. Now, that’s interesting.

* * *

In all the years that I would visit Jisoo in the human resource office, it’s usually our shared ramblings and information on who decided to leave the company for the month.

Over two medium-sized cups of milk tea, the word ‘tendering’ was at least mentioned four times in our conversation today.

She blinked at me then to the letter that I poured myself over for two weeks, weighing in what both the angel and devil were whispering behind my shoulders.

Jisoo huffed and slumped back on her swivel chair, scowling at the piece of paper.

“Couldn’t you at least wait for your tenth anniversary here before you get the hell out of this corporate hole?”

I crossed my arms against my chest and shook my head. “I made a deal with myself and I have plans.”

A sigh. “If I tell you this, maybe it’ll convince you and prolong your stay.”

“Try me.”

Jisoo looked behind me as if she was making sure that no one was peeking through the door then leaned closer.

"Higher-ups are considering you to be the VP of operations as soon as Mr. Jung retires next year. They said you are a good candidate."

I arched a brow, “Slim chance.”

But she was persistent. “They need someone younger, brilliant, got what it takes and – and most importantly, at least ten years tenure. You know what a decade employee gets. As for you, incentives plus huge promotion. Damn, Bae Joohyun living her life!”

My lips thinned into an amused smirk, “And where did you get that delusion again, Jisoo?”

“Please,” she threw her hands up, “This office is the hotspot for gossips and updates, aside from the occasional complaints. Executives walk down this corridor while conversing on important company decisions. They’re not that subtle.”

“Or they just forget that Jisoo from HR might be eavesdropping.”

With that, Jisoo’s hearty laughed echoed the usual bleak and grey office.

* * *

If I were to retrace my journey and how I got myself from climbing up the corporate ladder to this bright office that gave me privacy more than the cubicles could give, it would probably be the moment when we threw our rolled diplomas into the air.

But that’s a little farther from the narrative.

We needed a good lawyer. Pro-bono lawyers’ hands were full from handling cases concerning human rights, child trafficking, refugees seeking asylum, jailed trade unionists, and the like.

Bless them but realistically speaking, there weren’t enough of them.

As the new breadwinner and eventually a bereaved family member following the murder case of my sister, the crisis forced me to sacrifice myself on overtimes, working in Antarctica-like room temperatures, unnecessary sexist remarks in the workplace… the whole lot of making your way into our world’s capitalist nightmare just to continue paying the defense lawyer.

I remembered the night when I discovered the open area on our company's top floor, which became the solitude of my breakdowns and cigarette breaks, I shouted, "My sister was so young, why did you let this happen?!"

God was probably sleeping by that time hence, the lack of response via lightning or a visitation from Archangel Gabriel.

A thought occurred, God’s not taking graveyard shifts.

As I saunter the company corridors, interns and rookies alike would now bow in respect when they meet me on their way to their stations.

Years ago, I did the same, diligently mumble a polite greeting then keep my head down to avoid the executives’ scrutinizing gaze. I was counting the days until I receive my pay or when I’d finally quit my job once my sister got the justice she deserved.

Those days, I thought, will remain in memory but it’s time to say goodbye.

My sister’s case finally had a verdict after nine agonizing years.

* * *

Placing the pen holder into the box, I heard a knock on the door and Hyoyeon entered. She was still in her customized ‘We Will Miss You, Boss Bae-Bae’ shirt that she also made each for everyone in the department to wear for the send-off party they surprised me with.

“What would we do now?”

I shook my head, a gesture of reassurance, “You guys will be fine.”

Hyoyeon heaved a sigh, “Yuri transferred to Japan, Wendy became a professor, and now, you’re going to leave me here, too?”

“It’s kind of funny that you’re relying on me when you’re the senior here. You’re two years older than me.”

“And since you’re leaving and you’re not my boss anymore, you’ve also lost the first-name-basis only privilege. You have to call me ‘unnie’ now, understood?”

I playfully rolled my eyes, “Yes, Hyoyeon _unnie_.”

“What are you going to do next, then?”

I closed the box with its lid and shrugged, “Go back to Daegu for a while. If I’m up for it, probably open up a business there while I take care of mom. She’s in her retirement years now, she needs to be pampered.”

“Leaving everything behind, huh?” She said softly, “But you know what? That’s what I admire about you the most. Not a lot of people can walk away from a promising career or a high-paying job. That takes willpower, courage, and nightly ‘deliver-us-from-evil’ prayers, Joohyun.”

“I was almost blinded by what my job had to offer so, yes, I almost lost myself into it. I’m an indecisive middle-class person. I’m not so different.”

“Look at you,” Hyoyeon fondly grinned, “You’ve become wiser. Grown. I should be sulking because of your resignation but I’m now happy for you.”

* * *

I never knew how much I've missed out on all the things that I wanted to try because of what my work demanded.

When I stepped out of the company building last week, if that was the feeling of freedom then I wanted every bit of it.

The first thing I did was to call my mother and told her that we’ll go on a trip somewhere in Europe.

“But that would be too expensive!”

My mom’s frugality kept us afloat and, at least, financially stable because she believed that “since we’re not an affluent family, we’re teetering on this fine line of decadence and destitution”.

To put it simply, the middle-class is just one hospital bill away from poverty.

"Don't worry, I saved up some money decently. Besides, let me fulfill what I promised to you before."

I heard a chuckle and the rustling of papers in the background. Mother was probably checking the logbook she kept around to keep track of dues and notices of our bills that were sent through mail post.

“I don’t remember you promising me a trip to Europe. You only asked me if I wanted it as my Christmas gift. What changed now?”

What sharp memory my mother has because Bae Joohyun makes promises now?

“A changed woman, I guess.”

* * *

“Well, any afterthoughts since our last session?”

Get rid of your excess baggage, my therapist said when she was helping me settle with the idea of being probed and guided until I figure myself the things that hold me back.

Dr. Tiffany Hwang was less intimidating, I expected a cold and uppity demeanor during our first session just six months ago.

Yuri recommended her to me and among the things she noted was that Dr. Hwang was queer-friendly so I thought, maybe I’ll have my safe space here.

“I found an album that contained most of my childhood and family photos. It was an eventful walk down the memory lane.”

Dr. Hwang clicked her pen, a prologue to the plethora of words she had to write on the clipboard for my assessment, “Do you have first memories of your childhood? Can you still recount some?”

Perhaps, I do.

Daegu in its post-June drizzle. The classic songs in her time that my mother would play on Sunday mornings. Suzy and I frolicking in the meadows. Innocence.

I wish I could be oblivious again, I said to Dr. Hwang, just to feel the love around without knowing what was behind closed doors or why my parents were yelling at each other.

My mother crying while pushing the man, whom she thought would be her companion ‘til death do they part, out of the house was not an act of love.

It was an act of self-preservation and the act that defined my commitment issues.

“Confronting your past, metaphorically or literally, can help you with your progress,” Dr. Hwang started, “knowing where it all began is a leap towards acceptance.”

“I get the ‘metaphorical’ part. What does the ‘literal’ sense mean?”

“Tangible existence that reminds you of your past, perfect example of it could be a person.” She tapped the pen against the clipboard twice. “But I’m not saying that you call that person and confront them because it might only open up nasty memories when you’re trying to heal. The situation varies.”

* * *

A reprieve to my past requires closure.

That's the realization that dawned upon me after two rounds of insatiable fuck with an unnamed guy.

* * *

The unnamed guy was Minho, he later introduced himself as a data scientist in a pharmaceutical company here in Seoul. After we’ve had our fair share of enjoying getting laid last time, he invited me for some coffee at a newly opened café shop downtown and now, he wouldn’t stop pestering me.

“Baby, come on.”

I abruptly stopped in my tracks and turned sharply on my heel to face him.

I let out a frustrated sigh, “How many girls are there in the whole of South Korea? Thousands, right?”

He flung his hands for a moment, “You’re – you are different from any of them.”

I feel like men had a universal manual book that they all read because pretty much I’ve heard this line before.

“There are more girls out there for you.” I began to walk again but then he took long strides to block my way.

“Listen, I don’t want some kind of plain romance.”

“It was just sex.”

“No. It wasn’t just. We,” he inched closer to me and took my hand in his, “formed a connection. I know you felt – ”

“Minho, it was just sex. Okay?”

Since when did I soften myself up to guys like him? I used to be spiteful like a combatant, spewing curses to fend them off. Now, I found my hand resting on his cheek.

“I had fun. I know you did, too. But, I’m sorry.” I gave him a brief parting kiss on the corner of his lips, not missing the dejected look in his eyes.

“You’ve got plenty of time in the world to look for the one. Like that barista at the coffee shop checking out on you, who knows?”

* * *

The familiar tinkle of glass on the glass as the bartender was mixing drinks filled the usual somberness inside. Hushed conversations were drowned in boisterous laughter at the far end.

The pinball machine was nowhere to be found and neither were the people who used to stay in their favorite spots.

I figured I needed a drink for tonight so, on a whim, I took myself to the bar that held memories close to home.

* * *

“It’s been a while since you visited us here, Joohyun! Thought we lost our loyal patron forever.”

I chuckled softly, “Just got busy with life and making milestone decisions. So, I’d like to have a celebratory drink. Recommend me something nice.”

The bartender pointed a finger in the air, making wild guesses if I was getting married or had a job promotion.

I scrunched my nose, “No and no. I’m jobless now, actually.”

“No shit. Should I say ‘I’m sorry’ or ‘I’m happy for you’?”

“A drink that’s on the house would be better.”

Garbled music crooned from a nearby karaoke booth. I listened closely and realize that a white woman was singing Roxette’s Listen to Your Heart in her off-tune, drunken state. The butchery.

I muttered a quick ‘thank you’ to him and enjoyed a flute of French 75, free of charge.

* * *

Last on the playlist was another English song by Adele.

This time, I reckon it was melodiously sung by a trainee from one of those huge idol agencies. The handful of bar-goers sat spellbound when she belted through the chorus of Turning Tables.

Hoots of awe and applause erupted when she hit the right notes throughout the final verse.

I sipped on my margarita, satisfied.

* * *

I wasn't certain if it was either the liquor that clouded my mind or the continuing cheers that made my auditory perception mistakenly pick a familiar voice amongst the noise in the bar.

“Look, noona! I haven’t been in this place for so long. A few things did change.”

I froze. The incoherent cheering around suddenly diluted into white noise. I closed my eyes.

Then, I fished out the barely-consumed pack of cigarettes out of my pocket, tapping its torn opening against my wrist, and grabbed a stick with my lips.

I made a litany for myself.

Don’t look. Don’t you fucking look like you’re desperate. Don’t turn your head. Don’t.

My nail scratched against the glass. I began to bit the cigarette rather hard. The coolness of the bracelet seemed to seep through the skin on my wrist.

There’s an irony of having imaginary conversations with someone for years. Now that you felt that someone’s presence by your side, one sit apart from you, a hand sliding against the smooth wood of the counter as it passes a lighter, she suddenly seemed unreal.

No salutation, no disposition, no declaration of past transgressions.

None of those made-up confrontations in my head could ever surmount this moment.

I stared at the sterling silver lighter as if it was worth my time, not daring myself to look at who offered it.

“I don’t smoke.”

Not anymore.

“You’re lying.”

“Why would I?”

“A cigarette’s dangling your lips.”

I took it out and held it.

“I haven’t lit one in three years.”

Confronting your past is a leap towards acceptance.

“Joohyun.”

It shouldn’t be this hard, right? But how couldn’t it be when the moment I let my eyes finally meet those that never did fail to soften, everything came undone?

Forget the fact that she left the morning after and pretended you didn’t care. Forget the time when you cried and realized she was already married by then. Forget the moment when you regretted why you never acted on it.

Because there she was.

“Seulgi.”

There she is.

Finally, a shift to present tense.

* * *

The vinyl records still sat on the corner of the bar’s record shelf. The owner never did bother to dispose of them, perhaps it was still a relevant touch to the aesthetic.

Seulgi dusted a record off then placed the vinyl on the player and sat beside me, still keeping her distance. The music began.

Let the lyrics speak of the unspoken. Let the tune wind through the gaps.

A lot of things change through time and in four years, there were countless of those.

We had a president impeached. Scandals that broke. New regimes around the world. The peace talks between the two divided Koreas. S.E.S twentieth anniversary.

But Seulgi still loves jazz.

"Open Sesame by Freddie Hubbard," I muttered, just enough for her to hear and the color of emotion painted her features.

I wanted to predict what she would say but where do I begin?

I _t’s been a long time. How do you do?_ Or _It’s been a long time since I left you out of the blue and you wept for me. Pathetic._

But when her words came, none of my imagined spiels rushed out.

“Did you know that this is going to be the bar’s last night? This place is closing down tomorrow.”

I looked over my shoulder and saw the sign that I didn’t bother to read when I entered. The free drink I had and the bartender’s bittersweet smiles as he served the customers were what gave away.

“Thus, your presence here before this perfectly hopeless place goes out of business.”

“Doyoung told me. Is it why you’re here, too?” she asked.

“No. I didn’t know about it. I came here to celebrate, supposedly.”

Her expression fell but I chuckled sympathetically to stop whatever conspiracy she was beginning to think.

“I mean, you didn’t ruin anything. Your arrival was –”

“Four years late?”

I went vaguely silent.

Seulgi looked far away, “Unanticipated? Unwanted?”

“You’re putting words in my mouth.”

She took a swig of her beer, “then what were you supposed to say?”

I looked at her, her face was intermittently lit by the flickering lights.

I wondered if she was living a life of happiness, of eloquence, even it was against my disappointment that she got to spend it in the arms of the man she married and the banality of it all as it amplified my regression.

* * *

This night wasn’t what I pictured after years of total disconnection with one another.

I expected a conclusion, the semi-colon finally turns into a period to end this tragedy.

It only sprung more questions and planted more doubts in my head.

Then around eleven in the evening, we bade our goodbyes to the bar that became the genesis of this peculiar relationship and haven of solemnity. I was supposed to drive home.

“Come with me.”

I placed another unlit cigarette between my lips.

“In which capacity are you in my life right now that you can candidly tell me that?”

Her eyes gazed down towards the bracelet and with that, she had known her place.

* * *

I later found that the heiress to a multi-million pharmaceutical corporation didn’t anymore keep the lavish home she had in Gangnam-gu.

Instead, we were in a spacious condominium, a place that was quite lonely for one person, that it would make you think you’re in New York for a moment.

A thought irked at the back of my mind, would her husband mind that I’m here?

If I bumped into him, how would Seulgi introduce me?

It’s been ten minutes since we were idling by the balcony. If it were like the old times, we would have gone down to business already.

That wasn’t the case anymore.

“It’s been a while.” Seulgi broke the ice and I wondered where the smooth-talker I’ve first known had gone now. “You know what I’m thankful of? I’m happy you didn’t go to my wedding.”

“Congratulations. Although it’s four years late. The sentiment still stands.”

Seulgi fixed her eyes at the void of the pitch-dark skyline.

“I traveled a lot. Soul-searching is my apparent sugar-coated term of being on the run. A different phone number in a different country. And in a different country, a different bedfellow.”

When she finally faced me, the first thing that my eyes caught was her hands.

There was no ring wrapped around the finger that was believed to be connected directly to the heart.

* * *

The whole thing that Seulgi was married was only a constructivist thought in my mind all along.

"It never happened," I said, almost whispering.

It wasn’t anymore a doubt but a fact.

The distant sounds of vehicles in the city would punctuate the arduous silence during which we were avoiding looking at each other's eyes.

“Before I came here, I was in Cuba. I met someone there. Hit it off but nothing deep, no roots. The day before my flight, he asked me to stay. Ticket’s been paid, I was bleeding the last of my money. I couldn’t. Smart guy but he makes lame-ass quotes. It’s not the force of gravity or anything rational that was holding me back, it was the sentient core of my being and perhaps a someone.”

I rubbed my palms against my jeans, “Listen. I –”

“Maybe he was right.”

I sighed gravely, readying myself. Come what may.

“Joohyun, I’m sorry.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, “No. No, Seulgi. You’re fine, okay? You don’t owe me anything.”

“I owe you an explanation,” She answered, “That’s at least the thing I could do to –”

“To what? To ease your conscience? To finally put an end to your pity?”

I sensed her bewilderment at the defeatist idea I was throwing and her pained expression.

“I made reckless decisions. You've probably thought that I was thick faced when I invited you to my sham of a wedding. But in the end, you didn't anyway. So, what the hell, right? I took matters into my hands. I could have gone back here, back to you…”

We were now teetering on the edge of something.

I bit my lip as my vision was blurring, the corner of my eyes prickling.

I let out a shaky breath, “I tried to set things right with Suho months after you left. There were times that I thought of giving in and say yes. Everyone in my age is doing that anyway. I loved him, make no mistake. But it would have been a disaster.”

Seulgi laughed bitterly, “And I needed freedom… and I thought you’ve settled already… yet, you still feared commitment after all these years.”

“That’s the thing. The hypocrisy of it.” I chuckled through fresh tears, “Waiting for you with no promises or reassurances that you would ever come back was already the commitment I got myself into.”

* * *

For some reason, Seulgi sat closer to me. She probably saw me shiver and draped her leather jacket around my shoulders. Its lingering scent brought me a sense of familiarity.

“It was a confusing time. When I started letting myself engage into that no-strings-attached arrangement, I said nothing must turn into… feelings.”

I was doing what my therapist advised me, confronting my past.

But it was also opening wounds.

Must it heal this way?

“You freaked me out.” I continued. Seulgi’s expression softened, her eyes were glassy. “When you came into my life, I was already tired. At my lowest point. Contradictions arose. Everything became fucking inconvenient. I wasn’t prepared for the hell of it, for you. For wanting company, a love that is most welcome yet revolting. I didn't –”

Any pre-linguistic thought on love disappeared into a motley of dust and so did the world around me.

But it was alright as Seulgi’s warm hands were on my cheeks, a sob escaped my lips only for her to console me with hers pressed against mine.

* * *

We ended where it used to be.

On bed.

Naked.

I’ll thank Wendy soon; she was right about make-up sex.

* * *

I sat up on the edge of the bed, the warm sheet slipping down my bareback. I peered behind my shoulder and saw one thing that I missed the most, her serene smile.

I timidly looked down just when she crawled towards me and I felt her lips latch on my shoulder, trailing up to my neck and rested on my temple.

I relaxed, closing my eyes to relinquish this freedom from the profound abysmal feeling.

“What are you going to do now?”

“My dad would soon find out that I’m now back. My brother said that our old man wanted to see me, I’d like to believe him.” She answered. “I didn’t agree to my betrothal and I sleep with women. He hates me.”

A strict and staunchly conservative father.

Seulgi’s got her fair share of daddy issues after all.

My hand reached to her cheek, “What will he do to you?”

“He wouldn’t do anything. I mean, he wouldn’t allow beating me up. That’s grotesque. But he would fuck up your bank accounts and freeze your assets which he had done it twice.”

I nodded slowly. “So, you would be forced to come home. It’s a bait.”

“Yeah. That’s how he thought it would work.” Seulgi kissed the inside of my palm, “But I’ve put the inheritance behind. When I’ve set myself that I’m done with it, I am done.

I retracted my hand. “So, you’ll leave again?”

“Don’t say it like that.”

I looked away and said nothing.

She reached for my right hand and held it, “The bracelet looks good on you.”

“I always look good in anything.”

Seulgi tittered before she gave me a proud kiss on the lips.

I pulled away slightly, “How come I never caught a whiff of your wedding debacle?”

Seulgi got off the bed to grab the bottle of wine, not bothering to clothe herself and I couldn’t help but feel smug when I saw the glaring red marks that stretched from her back down to her ass.

I licked my bottom lip. This woman still knew how to push my buttons.

“They hid it well. Culture of shame and all those shit. I angered my ex-fiancé’s family and my father that they couldn’t bear to let the world know about it. Made the guests sign NDAs and paid the media hefty amounts of money.”

She drank her glass of wine in one go.

“Eh? Hoarding obscene wealth and unfettered materialism while there are people exploited is more shameful.”

Seulgi handed me a glass of dark red liquor.

I sipped on my wine, letting the sweetness of it settle on my tongue, “You didn’t answer my first question.”

She wore the bathrobe and sat down on the futon couch, "Everything I did before was, on the most part, against my will.”

I set the glass aside and walked to her.

“So, stay.”

* * *

Eyes still closed, I stretched my arms wide open, not minding if it would land on Seulgi.

Oddly enough, her side of the bed was already cold like no one had occupied it the night before.

Still feeling wobbly, I called for her and looked around the place, the bathroom, the kitchen.

Somehow, I felt a pang of unwanted sadness and a rush of anxiousness when I couldn’t find her around.

God, no. Not again.

In the first paralyzing moment, my mantra was Joohyun-calm-down. She promised you. Joohyun-calm-the-fuck-down.

In case of panic attacks, Dr. Hwang told me to take deep breaths. Breathe in, breathe out. Think of something for distraction. Something that makes you hope.

Everything that Seulgi said last night. But fuck, Joohyun. Did you believe it right away – No, no. Maybe her desire to open up a jazz and art shop. Yeah. This isn't me, when did I become attached to someone?

I felt my heart clench until a hand run down my back and startled me.

“Hey, Joohyun. It’s okay. It’s just me. I’m here. Okay.”

Seulgi, as I live and breathe.

* * *

A few minutes later, I calmed down but not without my cheeks getting damp with tears that I let out of fear.

She looked at me, worried and petrified.

"I'm sorry," I muttered, chugging a glass of water to quench my parched throat.

“No, it’s okay,” Seulgi said, “I went down the building to buy some stuff for breakfast. I forgot to leave a note. I didn’t want to wake you up.”

I sat down, trying to get my bearings.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I looked at the paper bags that must have contained the goods she bought. “Maybe we should just prepare for breakfast.”

“Okay… Yeah, we should. I’ll turn some music on, yes?”

Seulgi got her phone out and gave me a reassuring smile before she connected the music to the room’s wireless speakers.

I expected to hear the bright mellow of saxophones, the genre she was so fond of, but it was an acoustic strum that preceded.

I gazed at her and for a moment, she was the only person that mattered to me. She was the kindest and most beautiful being in this wretched world.

Maybe in another world where it’s fair, perfect, and all is well, I wouldn’t have met her because by then, what would be her purpose?

Her existence here was the antithesis of life’s cruelties.

* * *

Half-way through eating our meals, I debated with myself whether I should bring up what kept me bothered since last night.

"I need to talk to you.”

Seulgi picked a slice of egg roll before she replied, “I’m all ears.”

“I overheard your phone call last night.”

She kept mum but I could see the gears in her mind turning to say the right words or perhaps, excuses.

I sucked in a breath and placed down my chopsticks on the plate, “You agreed to stay.”

“I did.”

“But?”

“Let’s finish our food first. Then, we’ll talk.”

“If we talk now, we won’t be wasting our time. Like any of it. Might as well say it now before I could let myself hope.”

There was a long silence afterward.

“I’m not supposed to come home yet.”

I was right. “So, last night was our closure.”

“I have to set things right first before I could make it up for our lost time."

“By going back to China? To your ex-fiancé? You said that you have no business there anymore.”

This hunger and, as disgusting as it may sound, this unfound jealousy to a man she never ended up with didn’t exist before. Not even during those years that she wasn’t around.

Seulgi stood from her seat and went closer, knelt beside me, and clutched my hands.

“Joohyun, listen. It’s frustrating and I know… we’ve waited for this. But please, I just need a little patience. And your faith. It won't take long. It's true, I wanted closure of what we had–”

“– That’s why you’re just here and not long enough you’ll be gone again.”

“– because I want us to start anew!”

Her words echoed in my mind and I had to remind myself that this isn't the same as what I had with Suho. These are different times said by different people.

But these were still promising of uncertainties.

Seulgi distanced herself from me. The dissonance was now unfolding in the air.

* * *

She began to recount what happened during the day of her wedding. Her brother helped her escape to Russia until a year later, her fiancé’s family was threatening to sue them and break the dealership that could plummet their company to bankruptcy.

I retract my statement on Kang Seulgi’s marriage last night.

Life, don’t you just love farce?

* * *

“Yifan and I made a mutual agreement. We gave each other what little freedom we have. There was no formal wedding. But a deal was a deal. We just never wore our rings.”

I stood up and entered the living room, I felt her presence follow me.

I wanted to scream angry obscenities at the world, at her.

“I thought we got this chance now after four years…”

As I paced around, I began to laugh in my most bitter state, each rumble felt like a kick against my chest.

“It’s not just you who had to make difficult decisions in all those years, Joohyun.”

I sharply turned to face her, “Difficult? Are you kidding? You made a deal with your – your husband and-and this so-called freedom. Such freedom to go wherever you want and fuck whoever you want while you’re still securing the money – you’re still rich, what’s so difficult with your life?”

I should have already seen the hurt in Seulgi’s eyes but this time, her eyes flared. There was heat in her voice.

“Oh? _Oh_ , so now you care? Suddenly, you have a say in my life? If you cared, you would have shown it a long time ago. Then I suddenly remember, oh yeah, we just happen to sleep together for fun time’s sake. No big deal.”

“Do you know why you never get away from them?” I jabbed a finger at her, “Because you can’t stand on your own. You’re a _coward_. There, I said it.”

“You don’t know me. You don’t even know half of who I am.” Seulgi retorted through gritted teeth, “And that’s rich, coming from you. Are you truly afraid of commitment or the people you’ve been with just leave you because of your sense of _entitlement_?”

“You’re turning this against me? Fine, go back to your father, to your husband, and to your selfish, circus family who doesn’t care about you and just let yourself be used for –”

Word by word, tears fell on Seulgi's cheeks and for a second it was painful to see her like this.

“All my life… all I ever wanted was to make them happy. The things I sacrificed wasn’t for my father's benefit. After I ran away, I could have gone back here to Seoul but I chose not to. Why?”

I wanted to reach her but there was already an invisible wall between us that made it impossible.

Her lips trembled, “In all those years that I was away, I had to fix whatever damage I had in life. There were days I thought about you – yearned for you, but I needed to heal. Didn’t you ever think of me like that? Didn’t it occur to you that I could be as burdened as any human being with a beating heart? Maybe you just really saw me as someone you could call for a fuck.”

I wanted to look away but something kept me drawn; there, under her guarded layers, there was something solemn in her brown eyes that mirrored mine.

What used to show strength, now showed vulnerability.

What used to be resentment, now showed grief.

“… Weeks before my wedding, I lost my mother. I wasn’t given time to mourn properly. And it pains me to think, even to this day, no matter how the wedding was just for a fucking show, she never saw me in a white dress. It took me four years to finally have enough courage to come back, thinking that I was now better, hoping that you’ll understand me. And yet, you're putting yourself on higher moral ground.”

I shook my head slowly, “Seulgi… I’m – I didn’t know –”

“Didn’t think to.”

But when I reached for her hands, Seulgi backed away, her expression now filled with remorse.

“No – please. Just…”

All I could remember was saying a faint ‘I’m sorry’ to Seulgi before I walked out.

Maybe it was just all in my head but I guess I also told her that I was late for work, either out of stupidity or pure lie.

* * *

There was a nice restaurant just a few meters away from my old company’s building, near it was the road that could lead me to my therapist’s clinic. After I paid my fare, I got off the cab and sighed.

Therapy can wait until tomorrow, I wanted to have some soju and yukgaejang first.

* * *

Seulgi’s friend, Doyoung, was the one who served my orders much to our shock. He was skeptically looking at me, knowing that he just saw me last night at the bar and left with Seulgi.

“You work here?” I asked.

"My parents own the place. I help my folks around when I've got some free time."

“What do you do, then?”

“Is this an interrogation?”

There was a burst of sour-spicy warmth in my throat as I tasted the soup, “You asked for my name before which made you look like a creep if I didn’t know who you were.”

He only hummed then he sat down on the empty seat across mine.

I twisted the cap of the bottle and poured soju into my shot glass.

“Staying here to pity me?”

“I guess you know already. And from what you’re doing here right now, alone, it didn’t end well.”

I didn't give him an answer and only continued indulging myself with the soup.

I heard a forced sigh.

“Joohyun-ssi, I may not know everything that is between you and Seulgi noona but to a certain extent, I know both of you had it rough for the past four years.”

I winced slightly after downing a shot glass of soju.

“Why does it always have to be her who cleans up the shit that she never wanted to be involved in the first place? For what, exactly? To save their faces from disgrace?”

"See? You do know about her situation but the problem is – let me be frank with you – you’re not putting enough trust on Seulgi noona or… it’s your selfishness talking.”

“What do you even know?”

Doyoung shrugged innocently, "There are things that Seulgi noona says, she reassures. But there are also things that she would leave unsaid. Until she’s sure of her decisions, she’s letting her actions speak for her sincerity.”

I wanted to laugh at myself for thinking that I truly knew about Seulgi when we were not in an ideal circumstance on the day we parted. Even the most mundane things, her favorite color, her favorite food, the movie she had cried like a baby, the first person she fell in love with…

Then again, I was blinded by the idea that we had all the time in the world to know about each other.

* * *

“Will she go back to them?”

“She didn’t tell her plans to you?”

“No…”

“You didn’t let her explain.” He gave me a sympathetic look, stood up as he took the bowl and bottle away. “Years of love have been forgotten, in the minute of hatred. Edgar Allan Poe. But the question begs, was it really love?”

* * *

I placed the book I borrowed that I was able to read in a week on its shelf.

Dr. Hwang smiled excitedly, “Did you like it?”

I sat back on the loveseat, “Insightful. You’ve got a diverse collection of books.”

“How diverse is diverse?”

“Well, it’s like an eight over ten. If you got ‘What is To Be Done’ somewhere, it’s a nine and a half.”

She broke out in laughter, her eyes turning into crescents with a guileless charm that I'm certain had attracted her clients.

“Is it because of the Thatcher book stack up there? A friend just left it. Never read it though.”

“Good.”

“So,” Dr. Hwang shifted to the reason why I was here after reading her notes on our previous session. “How are you? How’s that self-reflection going?”

I looked back at the borrowed book and a sudden thought surfaced on my mind.

“That book only mentioned the word ‘forgive’ twice. Relatively, ‘forgiveness’ was only mentioned just once.”

She stared at me, fascinated, “That’s a very particular observation. Was that the theme you were expecting?”

“Not so much on it. I mean, it’s a story about betrayals, abuse, robbing children of their innocence, illicit affairs… forgiveness just can’t account for those.”

“That’s true.”

“But acceptance. It talks a lot about it. The pains of growing, even the concept of love was there. And god-awful happiness. Isn’t it peculiar?”

Dr. Hwang set aside the clipboard, lacing her fingers together and placed them on her knee, “Well, Joohyun, was there a striking lesson that you got from the novel?"

My mind flashed to the day when Seulgi and I had an argument that grew from years of pent-up frustrations into a tornado as we were both blinded by rage.

“‘That's what careless words do. They make people love you a little less.’”

* * *

My car’s AC was working on full blast but as soon I stepped out, I tried not to be scornful. I should have already gotten used to the weather when I grew up in one of the warmest cities in this country.

I wonder if visiting my sister that is not explicitly on the day of her death anniversary would make her turn in her grave.

Because I’d call it a ‘surprise’.

Since it was still two in the afternoon, there were a few people who were visiting their loved ones. When I arrived, I passed by an ongoing funeral rite, the family saying their farewells to their dead, weeping as tears dripped their chins.

I wasn’t alone this time.

For a place that was said to be dreadful with only gravestones and withered flowers to look at, there was a comfort as you realize that someone was also sharing at least half the heartbreak you’ve felt.

* * *

“I’ve always thought that death is unfair but in reality, death knows no one. It snatches where it can, taking people who are far too young, far too good.

Suzy-ah, I wonder what kind of souls you meet up there, or in nowhere. I’m not exactly sure where you are but I want to believe that it’s where you’re at peace.

Maybe you’ll see my… a friend’s mother there. I don’t know what she looked like, but maybe you do. If you can tell her, she was blessed to have a daughter who had dwelt among the untrodden ways… but never lost her good heart.”

* * *

Placing another bowl of jjajangmyeon on the table, Mother watched me gobble up the noddle swirled with black sauce, her deep dimples had shown today as she smiled.

“How long has it been since you’ve eaten jjajangmyeon? I always cook that whenever you visit home but you never touched it!”

I gulped and wiped the sauce residue that felt sticky on the corner of my lips.

“It tasted terrible for me before.”

When she was to admonish me, I slacked my shoulders, “Ma, everyone knows you cook the best one. This is Suzy’s favorite, remember?”

She hummed, holding her peace, and said nothing.

During those months that we were still deeply mourning, my mother used to cook all the food that Suzy liked as her way of coping. Each time she’d share those with me, it never tasted the same way.

Suzy and I were supposed to enjoy these together, I used to say that to my mother.

But supper tonight, everything felt consoling in such a way that it invoked our joint memory of those ordinary days when Suzy was still with us.

“It’s so good,” I raised my empty bowl and smiled, “Can I have more?”

* * *

“Why are you such in a hurry to book for a trip? Ah – Joohyun! Let me finish washing the plates, you can go play with Mao.”

I didn’t budge from the sink and continued wiping the stains off a bowl.

“Because! I finally got this opportunity to spend it with you, we haven’t traveled overseas. And I’m not getting any younger.”

Laughter curled around the edges of my mother’s voice.

“Ha! Silly as always, my baechu. If there is anyone who’s not getting any younger, it’s me.”

You see, she and I have a different premise on that.

Rinsing the stainless-steel chopsticks and spoons, I turned briefly to her.

“If you’re going to start on why I’m still not giving you grandchildren –”

“– nobody mentioned having little Joohyuns.”

“–then about Suho and I.”

“–you’re the one who said his name.”

When I was done with the task, she handed me the dish towel and I wiped my damp hands on it.

We silently trudged to the living room, my mother bringing with her the teapot and cups for our obligatory drink before the evening ends.

We watched Mao chewing on his toy bone before my mother began to speak.

“It’s still surprising for me that a child’s first thought is that they owe their parents. Raising both you and Suzy, bless her soul, was never easy. Always difficult but always beautiful. But I decided to be a mother. I never regretted it.”

She placed her hand on top of mine, “You’ve done so much yet left so little for yourself, Joohyun-ah.”

I held my breath and closed my eyes for a moment, “I'm just doing what's for the best."

“One day, this,” she gestured her hand around, “will soon be empty. That’s the objective reality. Your sister and I, finally happy together. But how about you?”

Her words felt like I was going to lose two love ones in my entire lifetime.

My voice cracked when I needed to convince her, “I am happy now…”

There was something about mothers behind the look in their eyes when they think that we’re telling a lie. Perhaps there was a worry (why was my child lying?), anger (why would you lie to me?), or wonder (why couldn’t she find a better lie?).

“Are you, truly?”

* * *

After confirming the flight details on the airline’s website, I immediately told my mother that I was going back to Seoul.

“I have to deal with some things there. I’ll leave Mao with you. I’ll be back soon!”

As I hop inside the train, I told myself that I was ready for the rest of it.

All things considered. There was no turning back.

* * *

“Kid! I need to talk to her.”

Doyoung was staring at my disheveled state, my hair was probably all over the place as I rushed my way from the train station to their restaurant.

“Who’s her?”

“Seulgi. I need her number.”

He shook his head in defiance, “She never lets anyone know her number. She changed into a new one, by the way.”

“Okay, fine. Just – just call her. For me, please?”

Doyoung clicked his tongue, said something about ‘getting in trouble’ if he was to give Seulgi’s number right away, then made a quick search of her contact on his phone.

He handed the phone to me when it began to ring, I gave him an appreciative look before I turned away.

She would pick up, that I know. But if she heard my voice, would she end the call? Would she tell me to get lost and make me swear not to bother her again? Would she tell me that it was over?

In my daydream of pessimism, a voice intruded.

“Doyoung?”

“It’s me, Joohyun.”

Silence.

Here it goes.

“Seulgi, I’m sorry but here me out… Exactly two weeks from now, I’ll be in Barcelona. Three days since arrival, I’ll be in Sagrada Familia. A cathedral. I don’t need you to say anything right now but whether you go there to Barcelona or not, I’ll take that as your answer.”

For ten seconds, I was expecting her to say something like maybe I was only wasting her time.

The call ended. Nothing.

When I returned the phone, Doyoung was smirking at me and said, “Unbelievable. Both of you. Really.”

* * *

My incursion into the Spanish language was an enthralling lesson on intertwined linguistic and history.

The language budded from the Iberian Peninsula until the conquistadors thought that far-flung islands with indigenous languages were “barbaric”, it reached the shores of Latin America and a distinctive archipelago in Southeast Asia (a country which would be later named after a Catholic Spanish king).

A childhood friend who went to the seminary would call it ‘evangelization’.

My sociology major roommate during college used to refute it with, “’twas the other ‘-zation’. Why’d you think we’ve had liberation movements in our history?”

To which her classmate spat, “Colonization.”

* * *

“This cathedral is like heaven on earth.”

I heard my mother’s soft gasp, her eyes glittering like the sunlit mosaic of stained-glass windows frescoed above the tall stone walls.

She told me to look above and I marveled at the splendid carvings of the ceilings that reminded me of a kaleidoscope.

I heard her chuckle, “We, Protestants, may have had a long history of rivalry with the Catholics but I can’t deny, they do create masterpieces.”

I shushed at her side-comment, she only shrugged with a playful grin.

* * *

My mother shared her initial thoughts on our experience in Barcelona as we sat on an empty pew.

Barcelona is a city cradled on the northeastern coast of the Mediterranean, so it’s no surprise you’ll see their thriving seaports.

On our first day, we visited a nearby resort and leisurely strolled the beach.

On our second night, my mother met tourists hailed from Gwangju in a restaurant we dined in. She was only going to the comfort room yet it took her ten minutes before she came back to our table, a jovial smile stretching her lips.

“They’re a jolly bunch considering they’re retirees. And they taught me how to speak basic Catalan. You should have taught me that, Joohyun-ah! I almost said _buenos noches_ to the restaurant staff when it should be _bona tarda_.”

And on the third day, flares were seen everywhere in the streets and small bonfires were set up by the locals as we headed to Sagrada Familia.

“Big, big day”, a souvenir shop owner said in his effort to unfurl English words, “ _Nit de Sant Joan_. Evening, fireworks! You should see. Beautiful! Like you, _una bella donna_.”

* * *

“You’re being antsy since we arrived here. Are you okay?”

I gave her a rather forced smile. “Yeah, I-I am. I just… the cathedral is just overwhelmingly beautiful. I’m not sure where to look.”

I checked my wristwatch and read that it was already five-thirty in the afternoon. We’ve already toured the cathedral and its towers.

Still, no signs of her.

She stared at me with worry and curiosity as I looked around again, rather conspicuously.

“Are you waiting for someone, Joohyun?”

“N-no. I-I’m not. I – uh –”

My mother patted my shoulder, “I get it. You want to have your ‘alone’ time in a beautiful place. I tell you what. Remember those folks I met at the restaurant, they invited me to the penthouse they’re staying to celebrate the city’s holiday. I’m accepting their invitation.”

“Don’t you want to spend it with me? Besides, what if you’ll get lost if we separate?”

“Silly, phones exist. I can just call you. Don’t worry about me, baechu. I can handle it. Let me reminisce my youth by socializing.” My mother gave me a reassuring smile with her singsong voice as she said, “I’m not getting any younger.”

* * *

It was nine minutes to nine.

People with their renewed faith had begun to flow out of the cathedral, their prayers are done, the final 'Amen' in the air.

Outside, right next to the heaven's stars where those burst of colors as they greeted Saint John’s Eve.

In this distilled time, I could vaguely remember the past four years compared to this moment.

The stretch between seconds was formidable. My thoughts were dislodged of coherence to explain the pounding against my chest that shocked me as I could not control it.

Seulgi must have felt this way when she waited for me at the wedding.

The unknown. The anticipation. Like the defendant who's about to hear the verdict.

One minute –

– Then, another pair of heels clicking against the marble floor echoed like a slow grand entrance.

Thirty seconds –

– The fleeting and infinite period of emotion has been suspended.

Five seconds –

– I turned to her, the waiting finally came to fruition.

* * *

“It’s over.”

Those were Seulgi’s last words from her unorthodox salutations but it began like this:

“A year ago, I was here. I attended a mass for the first time in a while, and the priest said that ‘confession cleans the sinner’s soul.’ So, I did. I told him about my infidelity.

The flight was delayed but I got here on time to hear confession earlier. Same priest. I asked him if I was already forgiven, he said ‘He has a special capacity to forget our sins.’

I asked again… well, will He forget that I am now a divorcee? Will He forget that, too?

The priest answered that at least, my life’s chaos… it’s over.”

I would have jested on why she sounded like a nun who was about to enter the monastery or sparing me from the doctrines of her religion yet the earnestness in the cathedral was palpable.

“I’m sorry to hear about your divorce…”

Seulgi scoffed then tentatively chuckled as I joined in until the chuckle didn’t sound tentative anymore but it was brimmed with genuine amusement.

“But you’re not really sorry about it, are you?”

I gazed around the cathedral, drinking in the magnificent sight of holiness and art that Antoni Gaudí would have wished he’d seen today. Suddenly, everything seemed surreal to me like it was plucked out from a story with happy endings.

Then, I looked back to Seulgi – the woman I’ve grown fond of, the person that sparked this long ode of melodrama, the one that I might spend with however long an eternity can give us – and answered:

“No. I’m not.”

Forgive us but at that moment, I was the happiest and so was Seulgi.

And no better way to profess that feeling than a tearful embrace and a kiss to wash away the remnants of our story that was almost lost, almost tragic.

* * *

Some seconds later, we heard a resounding shout of words in Catalan.

Perhaps it was a priest who saw us being intimate in the middle of Sagrada Familia, probably reprimanding us that we were desecrating the house of God or citing Bible verses on why two women must not be seen like this.

Seulgi held my hand as we rushed outside, our cheeks flushed, our laughter bellowed with the wind and I let myself imagine that her jazz and art shop would soon be like this: filled with immense joy and freedom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've uploaded all the chapters here since I'm finally done updating on AFF so yeah that’s it for this not-so-short seulrene fic! 
> 
> So, this is how it feels like to finish something you’ve been quite emotionally attached to but anyway, I’m just glad I got to finish this before school starts to get hectic. 
> 
> Rewriting the ending of this story took me days bc nothing satisfied me but still, I’m not sure about this one too. It would be appreciated if you let me know your thoughts on it and if you were expecting a different ending.
> 
> Also, the chapter takes place in 2021 so let's just pretend everything is fine. It's an AU anyway.
> 
> I hope you guys are having better days and you’re all safe and sound with your loved ones.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! It's been a while since I posted a story. This isn't my first time here on AO3 but I decided to make a new account to centralize my Red Velvet fics hence, this day-old account.
> 
> I know it's kind of not a good idea to simultaneously update on different platforms but I was compelled to make this story more accessible.
> 
> I want to know your thoughts tho! You're free to leave constructive criticisms or insights and I'll gladly reflect on them :)


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